


get loud

by wo_osan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swearing, seriously theyre both dumbasses, sexual tension galore, some groupchat texting stuff, soooo much mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wo_osan/pseuds/wo_osan
Summary: “This is Wooyoung, he’s my best friend.” San turns to Wooyoung, leaning in far closer than he would while sober and grabbing Wooyoung by the shoulders. They’re basically the same height so it’s oddly jarring to suddenly be so close, noses almost touching. “You know that, right?” San says seriously.“Uh, yeah,” Wooyoung says. His tongue feels heavy, the words not quite slurred but not quite clear. The world has gone fuzzy around the edges, San’s face is the only thing in focus.“My best friend. I love you so much, dude. Seriously. I love you, man. I love you.”or: the college boys no-homo-bro-but-im-in-love-with-you au we all needed
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 358
Kudos: 1188





	1. 4am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! this is my contribution to woosan nation because im a sucker for mutual pining. also this will probably be around 10 chapters long and im hoping to update pretty quickly. pls remember to leave a comment it would make me super happy xoxo

Wooyoung thinks it probably says something about his friendship with San that he isn’t the slightest bit surprised when the other crawls into his bed at ass o’clock in the morning smelling like frat party and cheap beer.

He blinks, disoriented and still half-asleep, and watches through bleary eyes as San burrows himself under his covers. His brain still feels fuzzy with exhaustion, but he’s able to register that San’s not changed out of the clothes he’d obviously been wearing at whatever party he’d just come from.

Wooyoung mutters a string of swear words at his best friend for waking him so unpleasantly, but still automatically moves towards the edge of the bed to make room for him. Then he thinks better of it – he has a lecture tomorrow morning, he’s tired, and San stinks of alcohol and smoke. Plus, his single bed really isn’t made for two people to sleep in.

Not that they’ve ever let that stop them before.

“Your bed’s so warm,” San sighs happily, words muffled by the pillow he has his face buried in.  


“You stink,” Wooyoung replies. He shoves San away and turns to face the wall, hoping that San will get the hint and piss off.  


Instead of leaving, San wraps his arms around Wooyoung’s back and pulls him up against his chest, nuzzling his nose in Wooyoung’s neck. His body is still cold from the night air. “You smell really good,” he mumbles. “So warm.”  


Wooyoung freezes, suddenly wide awake.  


This doesn’t usually happen.  


He isn’t sure how much San had to drink, but he must be pretty fucking wasted if he’s saying that kind of stuff and being so touchy. They’ve shared a bed before plenty of times – even though they literally live in the same corridor of the same building on the same part of campus, whenever they’re hanging out in each other’s rooms they just get too lazy to walk back to their respective beds and it’s not a big deal.  


_Not a big deal._ Words Wooyoung lives by.  


San also has an unfortunate habit of ending up in Wooyoung’s room whenever he comes back after drinking with his friends or at a party, claiming that his bed is too cold or that he couldn’t find his keys or that his neighbour is watching movies too loudly (doubtful, considering this supposedly happened at 4am). And Wooyoung, of course, lets him crash in his bed. After all, it isn’t a big deal.  


There are clear boundaries that neither of them cross, though. And the number one unspoken rule is _No Touching_ ; aside from the occasional accidental brush of feet or hands, they’ve been great at following it.  


So Wooyoung isn’t exactly sure why San is now rubbing his (very cold) nose along the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His heart, which had been beating the slightest bit harder and faster than usual since San woke him up, is now hammering at triple speed.  


“I missed you,” San’s words are soft and a little slurred. “You should’ve come out.”  


“I have class tomorrow morning,” Wooyoung whispers, trying his best to sound calm and composed. Although he kind of doubts that San is going to remember this either way. “Important class. I told you earlier.”  


When San doesn’t reply, Wooyoung glances over his shoulder only to see that the asshole has fallen asleep. With his arms still clamped around Wooyoung. _Fucking wonderful._  


He tries to wiggle his way out of San’s grip, but it’s pointless. No matter how much he tries to push him away, San just grumbles unhappily in his sleep and tightens his grip.  


It takes Wooyoung a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Wooyoung decides that if he ends up failing his financial accounting course, it’s San’s fault.  


After waking up to the sound of San throwing up in his bathroom (which was positively _lovely_ ), Wooyoung had of course felt compelled to be the kind and caring best friend he is and spend the entire morning taking care of him, and had ended up missing his pre-exam review lecture.  


Even though he was bitter that he’d missed class and hadn’t even had the fun of going to a party the previous night, it did confirm his suspicions about San having drank way more than usual. San wasn’t someone who tended to get sick from alcohol, so he must have been well and truly smashed in order to have such a bad hangover.  


“I’m never drinking again. Ever. I’m never touching another drop of alcohol in my life,” San says later, once his nausea has subdued a little (mostly thanks to Wooyoung forcing aspirin tablets down his throat and making him tea and toast).  


“Sure,” Wooyoung replies, not looking up from the game he’s playing on his phone.  


“I’m serious. I mean, I knew it was a bad idea when Mingi made us do a fucking beer chugging competition, but it was the shots that really killed me. I was gonna pass, but the others insisted.”  


Wooyoung knows of San’s other friends, obviously, but he hasn’t really hung out with them that much. Sometimes he wonders whether that’s strange, considering he and San basically spend every waking moment together, but he likes that they both have their own thing going on. They aren’t pre-schoolers, and the concept of only having one best friend is outdated, so there’s no reason he should feel the need to keep tabs on every aspect of San’s life. Even though his chest does swell a little with _something_ every time San says that Wooyoung’s his _best, closest friend_.  


“Anyway. ‘M never going to forgive Mingi for that. I feel like someone repeatedly bashed my head against, like, a sledgehammer or something.” San nudges the toast on the plate in front of him with his finger as though wondering whether he can stomach it.  


“Wouldn’t it be the sledgehammer that’s being bashed against your head, not the other way around?” Wooyoung asks mildly, only half paying attention. He’s super close to finally passing the annoying level he’s been stuck on for the past week.  


San groans, letting his head fall into his hands. “I dunno. Thinking hurts my brain right now.”  


“How’s that any different than usual?”  


“Fuck off.” He pokes the toast again. “Thanks for looking after me, though. Sorry you had to miss your lecture.”  


“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”  


San is quiet for a moment. “So…” He begins hesitantly. “Uh, to be honest, I barely remember anything from last night after I left the party. But since I woke up here, I didn’t, uh, do or say anything weird, right?”  


Wooyoung looks up properly. San is still inspecting the toast, deliberately not making eye contact. There’s the sound of a sad _ping_ from Wooyoung’s phone as his character flies off the side of a cliff to a temporary, but nonetheless tragic, death.  


“No… you didn’t. You just stole the blanket and fell asleep in, like, two minutes. The usual.”  


“Oh, good.” San says, looking relieved. “Sorry for the blanket thing, it’s a bad habit.”  


There’s a palpable, strange tension in the air.  


Wooyoung exhales a laugh. He knows that it’s for the best if San doesn’t remember anything, but it feels weird that it happened and now he’ll have to carry the memory with him, while San remains blissfully oblivious.  


_It wasn’t a big deal,_ he tells himself immediately. _He was drunk and cold and friends hug all the time. In bed. Spooning. All night. Totally normal, not a big deal._  


“You really need to get your own blanket if you wanna stay over, dude. I was freezing my ass off last night,” Wooyoung says instead.  


“Whatever. Can I borrow something to wear? These clothes are starting to feel a little gross.” San says, pushing the toast aside as he evidently gives up on it.  


“More than a little gross. You smell like shit and now my bed stinks. I washed my sheets like two days ago.”  


“You’re so mean to me,” San says, dramatically holding his hand over his heart as he stands up.  


“Honesty is key.”  


Wooyoung doesn’t bother getting San something to wear because the other has already started looking through his wardrobe, taking out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. San’s slightly leaner than him, but they’re roughly the same height and build so they share clothes relatively often. Wooyoung probably has four or five of San’s sweaters in his closet, but San opts for Wooyoung’s favourite grey hoodie instead.  


“I’m gonna go shower, my head still hurts. By the way, you can sleep in my bed tonight if your sheets are really such a big deal and you’re too lazy to do laundry.”  


San walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. Wooyoung stares after him for a moment.  


_Not a big deal,_ he reminds himself.  


It’s funny, in a sad way, how the words seem to mean less to him the more he repeats them.  


Logically, he knows that San is just his platonic best friend and there’s nothing Wooyoung would ever do to risk screwing that up. San had only broken up with his (now ex) girlfriend a few months ago, and, even if San wasn’t straight, even if they weren’t platonic best friends, even if Wooyoung didn’t have the most teeny tiny barely-even-there crush on him, it’s not like anything would happen between them. San’s type was sporty girls with long hair who could cook well, and Wooyoung didn’t exactly fit the bill on any of those things.  


So he’s basically stuck hoping that the tiny amount of non-platonic feelings will go away.  


Preferably as soon as possible.  


It’s not like he’s pining, or anything. He still loves hanging out with San more than anything and wants them to continue being best friends, like, forever. He just needs to force himself to not think about his inconvenient _feelings_ , to banish any thoughts of what San’s lips would feel like against his, to stop himself from thinking about how San does everything with a perceptible sense of focus, which probably means that he’s a thorough kisser, all lingering touches and whispered sweet words.  


But Wooyoung doesn’t spend time thinking about that, so.  


Because he and San are just friends.  


Wooyoung lets out a low groan and drops his head against the table with a thud. Recently, he’d been great at pretending that he’s not kinda super into his straight best friend, but then San had gone and climbed into his bed and fucking cuddled him and made Wooyoung’s carefully built walls of denial come crashing down. And it was getting increasingly difficult to make himself believe that he wasn’t at all affected by it.  


_It isn’t a big deal.  
_

And the sad thing is, to San it probably isn’t. San is naturally quite a touchy person, though he tends to cling to Wooyoung more than he does with anyone else, constantly wrapping his arms around his shoulder and leaning into him. But that’s probably just San’s way of expressing friendship, or something like that.  


But it’s different for Wooyoung, and he might have been slightly delirious with exhaustion last night, but he can still clearly remember what it had felt like to have San wrapped around him, nose brushing against his neck and breath against his shoulder.  


He should probably stop thinking about that.  


He’s only just managed to get himself together and sit down to do some studying for the class he’d skipped today when San comes out of the shower, shirtless and with a towel wrapped around his waist.  


“The hot water stopped working, I was freezing my balls off,” San says.  


Wooyoung glances up, maintaining a carefully neutral expression, then thinks better of it and busies himself with his textbook. The last thing he needs is that image in his head when the whole thing last night already has him off kilter. “Yeah, it sucks. I told maintenance, but they gave me some excuse about needing to wait until next week to get a plumber in, or something.”  


“You could’ve at least warned me, asshole.”  


“Sorry. Forgot.”  


San finishes buttoning up his pants. “Wanna watch a movie or something? We might as well, considering we both missed all our classes.”  


“You mean skipped them.”  


“Same thing.”  


They end up deciding to binge the entire Harry Potter series, because it’s both of their favourite and even though they’ve seen every movie several times, they don’t get tired of it. Wooyoung opens the first movie on his laptop and they sit on the bed because the dorm room is small and doesn’t have a couch.  


Halfway through _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ , San gets sleepy and drops his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder.  


It’s almost worse than last night, because he smells like Wooyoung’s shower gel and every time San laughs, Wooyoung can feel it against his body.

* * *

“Dude, your shirt is on inside-out.”  


San glances over at Mingi, who’s looking at him with his eyebrows raised in amusement, then down at his shirt (Wooyoung’s shirt, technically, he’d just stolen it a few weeks ago and forgotten to give it back), which is indeed on inside-out.  


“Fuck my life. Genuinely _fuck my life_.” He says.  


Mingi looks half entertained and half concerned. “Uh, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure nobody’s gonna notice, and it’s not even that embarrassing if they do.”  


San sighs. “It’s not that. I’ve had… a rough morning. This is just the cherry on top of the massive fucking disaster that is my life.”  


“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound this dramatic before. In high school my desk mate used to be into super deep, emo poetry, and you sound like the shit he used to say. And not at all like your usual annoyingly bright self. Is everything okay?”  


The fact that San decides not to comment on Mingi calling him annoying really says something about how miserable he is. “I’ll survive. It’s just been a lot of little things piling up.”  


A lot of little things included him missing his bus, being late to class, getting chewed out by the obnoxious tool of a lecturer he had to put up with in Musical History, spending all his change on a coffee and then accidentally spilling it on his textbook, realising he forgot his laptop charger and not being able to take notes, and fucking finding out that Wooyoung apparently has a date tomorrow night and hadn’t even bothered to tell him. And San’s shirt is on inside-out.  


Before Mingi can reply, the lecturer clears his throat and the class starts, leaving San to be miserable in his thoughts by himself. He should probably pay more attention considering this is one of the few classes he doesn’t think he’s getting a guaranteed A, but he’s still preoccupied with the fact that _Wooyoung has a date_. And didn’t tell him.  


San really shouldn’t be this bothered by it, but they’re best friends and they tell each other everything. And Wooyoung doesn’t go on dates with just anyone, because he’s picky to the point of absurdity and so this girl is definitely special to him if he agreed on going out with her. So why wouldn’t Wooyoung mention something as important as this?  


But.  


It’s more than just that. It’s the part of him that makes his stomach twist with jealousy whenever he thinks of Wooyoung smiling at this unknown girl, the dark, ugly part of himself that wants Wooyoung to smile like that at him only.  


Because San is never one to sugar-coat the truth to himself, he’s very aware of the fact that his feelings towards his platonic best friend are not exactly platonic.  


It had originally started off as a small problem, something he could easily overlook, just the occasional thought of _oh, look, my best friend is kinda hot_. And then it had developed over time, taking root deep inside his heart and growing, slowly but surely, until it consumed his every thought. And now he had a very big problem.  


Mingi’s right, he really does sound dramatic as fuck.  


It’s only later in the afternoon, when he’s lying on bed watching some dumb anime that would be more fun if Wooyoung was here, that he decides to stop with the parties for the time being. When he’s drunk it becomes a lot more difficult to constantly hide his feelings, and the last thing he needs is to break down in front of Wooyoung and be all _“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for the last two years, probably longer, please let me kiss you”_ , because not only would that be extremely embarrassing, he’s also pretty sure it would ruin their friendship. Especially now that Wooyoung has his date.  


The worst part is that he’d found out through one of his course mates, a mutual friend of his and Wooyoung’s, who’d been like “I’m asking on behalf of a friend, but what food does Wooyoung like most?”  


Of course, San’s dumbass self hadn’t understood what the hell the dude was on about, and he’d replied, “Uh, probably anything with meat? Why does your friend want to know?”  


“Because she wants to know what place to suggest for their date, obviously. He asked her where she wants to go and she wants to pick somewhere he’d like.”  


San had felt his insides freeze up, chest tight and heavy, before he’d been able to give a laugh and say, “Tell her to suggest the seafood place just off campus. Wooyoung’s been wanting to go for a while.”  


San had wanted to go with him. Even though he doesn’t even like seafood that much. But now Wooyoung’s going there with his date, which is. Cool. Totally cool.  


He rolls on his back, bored of the anime since Wooyoung isn’t here to listen to his jokes about how dweeby the protagonist is. Before he starts feeling sorry for himself again, he pulls his phone out and decides to text his other group of friends.

****

**san @ boi$ gang 100 emoji  
** yo bros  
i dont think im coming to the party on friday  
im a fucking mess after the last 1  
puked my guts out yesterday morn  
morning  
nvr drinking again for real

****

**yunho  
** but!!!!  
the one this friday is THE event of the CENTURY  
youve got to b there man

****

**san  
** u say that abt literally every party

****

**yunho  
** thats bc every party is…  
a once in a lifetime event !!  
once u miss it……. its gone…… forever  
what if this one rlly is the best party youll evr attend

****

**mingi  
** yeah for fucks sake san  
even seonghwa is coming

****

**seonghwa  
** wtf what do u mean even seonghwa????

****

**mingi  
** just !! that the whole crew is gonna go

 **seonghwa  
** can u stop calling us a crew its embarrassing  
also who let yunho change the gc name again

 **yunho  
** fucking hell

**yunho changed the groupchat name to “a group of individuals who share the valuable bond of friendship”**

**mingi  
** …bro  
anyway san man u gotta come out

 **san  
** idk dude  
i feel like i should cut back on the drinking  
im worried im going 2 do something ill regret while drunk

 **yunho  
** ok who the hell r u and wheres san  
did someone steal his phone  
were u kidnapped  
do u need us to come save u

 **san  
** fuck off  
genuinely im a bit :/

 **yunho  
** wait what fr??  
did something happen?

 **mingi  
** yeah man u ok?

 **san  
** idk.

 **yunho  
** uh im kinda worried rn  
is this abt ur bff situation

 **san  
** firstly how the hell did u guess that  
secondly since whens it called the bff situation

 **yunho  
** what else would we call it  
so what happened w him?

 **san  
** ughgh this is so lame  
i dont wanna talk abt it

 **seonghwa  
** but like is everything alright?

 **san  
** yeah like its fine  
i just  
when i was drunk last night i went ovr and slept in his bed

 **mingi  
** i thought that happns all the time?  
happens*

 **san  
** yeah except when i woke up we were kinda  
u know

 **yunho  
** SHUT THE FUK UP  
U WERE CUDDLINGG??????

 **mingi  
** OHMHGOD R U SERIOUS

 **san  
** yeah.. rip

 **yunho  
** OHHSJLKOMG

 **mingi  
** UFCKKSL

 **san  
** ur both annoying i regret telling u already

 **yunho  
** firstly fuck u  
secondly wait i thought cuddling is a good thing  
y r u acting like someone vomited on ur textbook

 **mingi  
** firstly ew  
secondly that … isnt a saying

 **yunho  
** it is now

 **san  
** can we please focus??

 **hongjoong  
** wait i just saw this whats going on

 **yunho  
** well u kno how san is in love with his cute bff  
and how they always platonically share a bed  
(the dumbest shit ive ever heard of in my life but whatvr)  
and how we were all wasted as fuck last party thx to mingi haha cheers bro  
well apparently mr loverboy ended up CUDDLING w the lohl

 **hongjoong  
** hold on whats lohl

 **yunho  
** love of his life  
duh

 **mingi  
** AND NOW he decided he doesnt want to go party w us tomorrow  
bc not only is he gonna continue living celibate hes ALSO becoming a teetotaller

 **seonghwa  
** hi im here sry im in class trying to not let prof see me texting  
the fuck is a teetotaller

 **mingi  
** someone who doesnt drink alcohol  
duh

 **hongjoong  
** so in conclusion sans just being gay over his best friend as usual whys everyone freaking out

 **yunho  
** because he CUDDLED his bff

 **hongjoong  
** wait he CUDDLED HIM?????  
when u say his bff u mean THE bff right

 **yunho  
** how many bffs do u think san has  
hes a fucking loser

 **san  
** oh my GOD i hate u all  
i didnt even finish my point about why i dont want to drink anymore

 **mingi  
** we are listening,,

 **san  
** SO  
yes we cuddled kinda but i dont remember what happened!!!!! thats the problem!!!!  
because i woke up in the morning and i have no idea how we ended up like that or if i said something the night before!!!!  
i asked him but he said i just climbed into his bed and fell asleep so like. idk

 **yunho  
** oh man even when drunk w/o ur usual inhibitions u have 0 game this is truly tragic…

 **san  
** thats rich coming from some1 who drunk emailed their hot classmate last week and said “ur eyes remind me of the ocean, not because theyre blue (which they arent) but because they are depthless”  
except u were drunk so it was more like “beacuz theyr0depthless”

 **yunho  
** SCREW U WE AGREED THAT WE WOULDNT TALK ABT THAT ANYMORE

 **san  
** just stating facts  
but back to my Situation  
what do i do if i actually said.. u kno… something

 **mingi  
** by something u mean “hey bff im like super in love w u” right?

 **san  
** can u all stop calling him bff its weird

 **mingi  
** ok  
by something u mean “hey wooyoung im super in love w u” right?

 **san  
** …  
u r all being extremely unhelpful

 **yunho  
** ya thats bc this is a lost cause  
its fun to make fun of u tho

**san has left the groupchat**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's the first chapter! let me know what you thought in the comments and i'll reply to them all, or if u dont know what to say about the fic we can just chat about woosan it's chill really. also let me know what yall think of the groupchat format because idk how much to include it in the future. next chapter we'll meet wooyoung's friendship group and have some more woosan shenanigans ^__^


	2. easier said than done

The evening air is crisp and warm as Wooyoung leaves the library. He’d only planned on doing a few hours of revision, because San’s classes ended at two and, naturally, he’d assumed that they’d walk back together and hang out. Maybe watch a movie or something, like they usually did.

Except San hadn’t texted him at two. Wooyoung hadn’t thought much of it, had assumed that San needed to meet a professor or maybe do a few hours of revision himself. But now it’s four pm and he’s come to the conclusion that San hadn’t been planning on walking back with him and also hadn’t felt the need to inform him of this fact.

Which is weird. And a little concerning.

His phone buzzes and he immediately pulls it out of his back pocket, expecting a message from San (apologising for not texting him sooner and inviting him over for a late dinner in his room).

**heewon**  
hi, wooyoung!! ≧◡≦  
sorry for the late reply, i had class all day o(╥﹏╥)o  
but tomorrow at six sounds great, i’d love if we could go to the seafood place near campus~~

Wooyoung slides his phone back into his pocket, feeling slightly guilty. Okay, so maybe it was a little unfair of him to agree to go on a date with a girl he wasn’t at all interested in, but Heewon was nice and had long eyelashes and wore pretty lace-tipped ankle socks, and, most importantly, was actually into Wooyoung. Unlike certain other individuals whose names started with S and ended with platonic-best-friend.

At least she’d suggested going to the seafood place he’s been wanting to go to for a while.

He arrives at the door to his room and twists the key in the lock. Wooyoung briefly debates whether he should go say hi to San, then decides not to because he’s still annoyed that the other didn’t message him, and he can be quite petty when he’s in the mood. He pushes his door open.

“You’re finally back. I’ve been sitting here for, like, two hours.”

Wooyoung looks up, startled, to find Yeosang – his closest non-San friend – sitting on his bed, eating a bag of prawn crackers.

“That’s not weird at all,” he says, sliding his shoes off and dropping his backpack next to the door. “How the hell did you even get in my room?”

“Your door was unlocked, dumbass. That’s really not very safe, so technically I was doing you a favour by sitting here and making sure nobody steals your valuable belongings such as –” Yeosang gestures vaguely around the room, “this… chair?”

Wooyoung snatches the bag of prawn crackers, deliberately elbowing Yeosang in the ribs.

“Ouch,” Yeosang says with dignity. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I was sitting in your boring, unfurnished room for two hours?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Because Yeonjun told me that he heard from Chaeryeong, who knew it from some of the musical theatre girls, that you’re going on a date with Kang Heewon the music production major. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

He sounds so genuinely offended that Wooyoung feels bad for a moment. He hasn’t told anyone about the date yet, partly because he still feels bad that he’d agreed to go out with someone he wasn’t interested in, and partly because the thought of telling San about it makes him want to be sick. But he knows he’s postponing the inevitable – especially because it’s becoming increasingly clear that Heewon apparently told every damn person she’d met on campus.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he is.

Yeosang raises one of his perfect eyebrows. He always manages to look so put together that sometimes Wooyoung feels like a mess just by existing next to him. “Okay, well, apology accepted. But I’m waiting on an explanation for why you’ve asked somebody else out when you and San clearly have some unresolved personal issues.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “Please. There are no _unresolved personal issues_. Just sad, one-sided feelings that I don’t want to talk about, ever.”

Despite Wooyoung’s best efforts, Yeosang had figured out pretty quickly that Wooyoung’s feelings towards San extended beyond the platonic. And although Yeosang has tried to breach the topic several times, Wooyoung would rather eat hot coal than discuss the crush he can barely admit to himself.

Probably sensing this, Yeosang says, “At least tell me where you know her from. Also, how and why you asked her on a date.”

Wooyoung sighs. He hadn’t actually needed to do much of the asking. He’d been doing some last-minute revision in the library when Heewon had come up to him and started saying that she thinks he’s very handsome and would like for them to go on a date. Wooyoung had been so taken aback that he had just stared at her for a few seconds, then nodded his head slowly. And she had given him her number and that was that.

He tells this to Yeosang as briefly as he can and Yeosang eventually gives up on trying to press him for additional details, so instead they do some revision for the exam they have on Friday. Wooyoung can’t help but wonder whether San’s already heard about his date. He wonders what San would think of Heewon; whether he’d approve of her. Probably – she’s pretty and a music production major, which means she must be taking similar courses to San. The thought of San approving of his date makes a knot form in his chest, so he stops thinking about that and buries himself in his revision notes.

* * *

It took San a while to decide whether his pettiness outweighs his curiosity to know who Wooyoung’s going out with. He doesn’t even really _want_ to know, but his brain had been unhelpfully supplying images of Wooyoung on dates with every girl he’d seen on campus all afternoon, and he’d decided it was necessary for peace of mind to at least find out whether it was someone he knew.

So here he is, standing in front of Wooyoung’s door and scared to knock like a fucking coward. The last time Wooyoung had dated was over a year ago, and, even though San hadn’t been happy then either, he’d been seeing one of the volleyball team girls at the time, so at least he’d had a more glaring reminder of how hypocritical he was.

He finally knocks on the door, deciding to rip off the band-aid and get this over with. Wooyoung opens it immediately, almost like he’d been waiting for him, but deflates when his eyes land on San.

“Woah, don’t look so excited to see me,” San says, stepping uninvited into the room and trying to ignore the tightness in his stomach.

“Sorry, I thought you were Yeosang. He said he was going to get a shirt to lend me from his room, but he forgot he has to go to a society meeting. I have a date, by the way.” Wooyoung says, back turned as he looks through his wardrobe absently.

“Oh, cool,” San says, and the words feel forced despite the number of times he’d practiced getting the tone balancing excitement-for-his-bro and indifference just right. “Who with?”

“This, uh, girl I know. She’s a friend of someone I know from class. She’s called Kang Heewon.”

San knows her; they have some classes together. A pretty, small girl who’s deceptively headstrong for someone so petite. He can see why Wooyoung would like her.

“She’s pretty,” he says.

“Mhm.”

There’s a moment of silence. San can see the muscles under Wooyoung’s thin white t-shirt shift as he reaches up to grab a shirt off the top shelf of his wardrobe.

“I don’t own any clothes except hoodies.” Wooyoung complains as he pulls some more sweaters off the shelf and throws them onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. “This is so fucking lame. I think I’m going to have to go to my date naked.”

“That would certainly make a statement,” San says. “But maybe not for the first date. Here, let me see.”

He walks over to the closet he’s probably as familiar with as his own. It was never something that they’d started doing intentionally – sharing clothes, and all – but it had rather been due to circumstance and convenience, and later San had just liked wearing Wooyoung’s soft hoodies for the hell of it.

He knows what he’s looking for and it takes him a few seconds to locate the beige turtleneck. He pulls it out and hands it to Wooyoung. “This one.”

“Really?” Wooyoung says uncertainly.

“Yeah, it’s casual but still classy, and will match whatever colour she wears. And,” San cuts himself off; saying something about him being handsome in it would be too corny.

“And what?”

“And it doesn’t stink, unlike most of your clothes.”

“Dickhead.” Wooyoung says, although his mouth is pulling up at the corners. “Besides, you can’t say that when you’re the one wearing them most of the time.”

It only takes Wooyoung a few minutes to get changed, during which San lounges on the bed scrolling absently through his Instagram feed. Mingi’s posted a few pictures from the party and San looks surprisingly decent in all of them considering how wasted he’d been. He’s deciding what to comment when Wooyoung clears his throat expectantly, making him look up from the screen.

“So?”

“You look good,” San says. “Really good.”

And he does. San thinks Wooyoung’s handsome always – handsome when he’s pouting in concentration while reading his textbook, handsome when laughs and his eyes light up, handsome first thing in the morning when San wakes up before him and can watch as he blinks into consciousness, sleepy and warm. But San had meant it when he’d suggested for him to wear the turtleneck, and the fact that Wooyoung is dressed up all nice for a date with someone else stings like needles under his skin.

San’s always envied the poutiness of Wooyoung’s lips, though some of that envy had later turned into wanting to taste their texture, and as Wooyoung nervously bites his lower lip, San glances away. _Wooyoung is going on a date with a girl. He’s going to kiss that girl. A girl, not a boy. Not you._

He clears his throat. “So, what time are you meeting her?”

Wooyoung glances at the clock on his desk. “I should probably set off soon. Can you, um, help me do something with my hair? It’s really not cooperating right now.”

His hair looks fine, but San can see how nervous Wooyoung is by the way he keeps running his hands through it, so he decides to humour him. He pushes himself off the bed and walks over, gently stopping Wooyoung’s hands mid-motion and moving them to his sides. They’re oddly close, face-to-face in a way that San can practically see his reflection in Wooyoung’s eyes. He tries not to think too much about it. It would definitely make things even weirder if he stepped back now.

He lets go of Wooyoung, moving to brush his hands through Wooyoung’s hair. It’s slightly brittle from the number of times the other has bleached it, and he wants to make a joke, but he’s worried about what his voice would sound like if he said anything, so he doesn’t.

Instead of looking at Wooyoung’s face, San keeps his eyes on his hair as he runs his fingers through the strands, softly brushing against Wooyoung’s scalp. He wishes he could tug his head back and press their lips together, wishes he could pull Wooyoung against his body and allow the knot in his stomach to manifest physically.

But he can feel Wooyoung watching him, so he drops his hands and steps back.

“Done,” he says, the word lingering in the space between them. 

“Thanks,” Wooyoung replies. 

The knock on the door startles them both.

Wooyoung turns away from San to open the door, and San can see two of Wooyoung’s friends, Yeosang and Jongho, over his shoulder.

“I brought the shirt, but looks like you don’t need it,” Yeosang says, giving Wooyoung’s outfit an approving thumbs up.

“Thanks, but yeah, it’s been sorted. I’ve got to head out, I’m gonna be late,” Wooyoung says, grabbing his jacket off the hook by the door and glancing at San. “See you later, thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” San replies, but Wooyoung’s already pushed past Yeosang and left the room. Without doing their customary fist-bump or high-five. San wonders if he’d made things weird before after all.

Yeosang and Jongho seem equally nonplussed by Wooyoung’s sudden exit and exchange a look that San can’t read.

“He’s nervous about the date,” he feels the need to explain.

“He is,” Yeosang says in agreement, but something about the way Yeosang is watching him puts him on edge. San is relatively familiar with Wooyoung’s course-mate friends, but he hasn’t ever spent time with them without Wooyoung there. And even then it had just been a simple _hi_ and _bye_ , maybe some small talk.

“I’m going to go get a start on my essay, I’ve been putting it off all week,” San says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“No worries, good luck with that. We should probably go too,” Yeosang says to Jongho.

They exchange friendly goodbyes, and San tries valiantly to write his essay for at least thirty minutes before the images in his head of Wooyoung holding hands with Heewon and kissing her make him want to tear out his hair. He momentarily debates whether he should text his groupchat for advice, but talking about Wooyoung being on his date is more than he can stomach right now; instead he abandons his essay in favour of watching a movie in bed.

* * *

Heewon is a very nice girl, and whenever Wooyoung makes a joke she giggles prettily and touches his arm. He supposes maybe in an alternative universe he could see them being together, because it isn’t like he doesn’t feel at all attracted to girls – he does. A little bit. Maybe. The problem is more that the attraction he feels as she leans up to kiss him at the end of their date is a tiny fraction of what he’d felt earlier in the evening when the light brush of San’s fingers against his skin had sent a shiver down his spine all the way to his toes.

Even now he can’t help but notice how short Heewon is, her forehead barely reaching his shoulder, which is surprising given that he isn’t extremely tall to begin with. For a moment he wonders if he should kiss her; she’s obviously aiming for that and maybe it could distract him from the whole mess with San. But that would definitely count as stringing her along, and that’s not the kind of guy he wants to be.

Instead he turns his face slightly and presses a gentle kiss against her cheek.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she smiles at him and says, “I had a really nice evening.”

“Me too,” Wooyoung says, which isn’t a lie. He had enjoyed the evening; he just knows there’s no point in pursuing this when there’s absolutely zero chance of him developing feelings for Heewon. “I’m just… I have a lot going on with classes, I have an exam on Friday, and…” he trails off.

Her smile turns sad. “It’s okay, Wooyoung. I get it. Thanks for the evening, regardless. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He doubts she really gets it, but he’s grateful by how well she’s handling the uncomfortable situation. She gives him a little wave as she leaves, and he walks back to his accommodation building alone.

Even though it might be a terrible idea, Wooyoung finds himself in front of San’s door instead of his own. He’s not sure if it’s just in his head, but he feels like things have been weird between them ever since San had accidentally hugged him in his sleep that night. And he hates it – this is exactly why he’d never even consider acting on his feelings; losing San as his best friend is the worst thing he could imagine. If he and San stopped being friends but were still at the same university, he’d probably have to drop out, and then his parents would be disappointed in him and he’d be miserable for the rest of his life and it would all be his own fault for catching stupid feelings for his homie. Not to be dramatic, or anything.

He knocks twice, resting his head against the doorframe. He can hear San’s movements, recognises the sound of his footsteps as he walks up to the door and opens it.

“Hey,” Wooyoung says.

“How was your date?” San says by way of greeting. He’s wearing a slightly oversized red sweater and grey sweatpants. Surprisingly, neither of them belongs to Wooyoung. He’s also wearing the glasses that Wooyoung always jokes make him look like discount Harry Potter.

“Not bad,” Wooyoung steps into the room. “She’s nice.”

San waits expectantly, clearly expecting Wooyoung to elaborate. “…And what did you guys end up doing?” he prompts.

“We went to that seafood place off campus. And then we walked through the park.” He doesn’t want to talk about this with San of all people. And even if he did, he doesn’t know what he could say. _We talked about class and mutual acquaintances and her pet tortoise. I spent most of the date wishing I was hanging out with you instead._

“Sounds fun.” San says. He’s got his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence. This is exactly the kind of weirdness Wooyoung was worried about.

“Do you wanna watch One Piece?” San asks, and the spell is thankfully broken.

They lie in San’s bed and watch it on a shady streaming website, laughing at the porn popup ads like they always do. One episode turns into seven and Wooyoung has started drifting off by the time San closes his laptop and pulls his duvet over both of them.

“’M wearing jeans,” Wooyoung says sleepily. San’s bed is warm and comfortable; he’s surrounded by the smell of San’s soft cologne, in the pillows and sheets and from San himself next to him. “Should probably go to my room and get changed.”

“You can just borrow something from me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes slide shut again. Keeping them open is too much of an effort at this point. “Too lazy to stand up,” he mumbles. “I’ll just sleep in boxers, ‘kay?”

He doesn’t think that’s a weird thing to do, but he’s also too tired to think too hard about it. He’s almost fallen asleep, jeans and all, when San replies, “Yeah, sure.”

Wooyoung wiggles out of the jeans, barely conscious, dropping them on the floor next to the bed. The turtleneck feels too tight and he’s half pulled it off when he remembers that he’s not alone in his own bed where he can sleep in as little clothing as he pleases, and instead is lying practically naked in his best bro’s bed.

Maybe it was a weird thing to do after all.

San’s lying facing the wall and not looking at him at all, so it would be easy to stand up and grab one of the shirts from San’s closet; possibly even a pair of sweatpants. But that would involve leaving the warm bed and he doesn’t want to do that. He also generally sleeps better in underwear, hence why the only time he wears clothes to bed is when San’s there. 

Besides, wouldn’t that make more of a statement about how not-weird things between them are? If he was so unselfconscious around his best bro that he didn’t even mind sleeping in boxers next to him? And San’s straight so it shouldn’t make a difference to him either way?

The bed is warm, the sheets feel nice against Wooyoung’s bare skin and the closet looks awfully far away. The turtleneck joins the jeans on the floor. Wooyoung allows his eyes to close and his brain to drift off into dreamland.

* * *

San’s always been thankful for his tendency to wake up earlier than Wooyoung, partly because he can watch the way Wooyoung’s lips pout in his sleep (even though it makes him feel like a creep later), but mostly because it gives him the chance to get breakfast from the bakery right outside their building so that when Wooyoung wakes up they can eat together like a disgustingly domestic couple who’ve been married for thirty years.

If Mingi ever found out about that he’d probably piss himself laughing.

Today, he’s thankful for a very different reason. Having spent a painful few hours trying to fall asleep with the knowledge that the person who’d occupied practically every single one of his lustful thoughts for the past year was lying in his bed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, he’d finally been able to fall into a restless sleep. In his dream, Yunho had been dressed as Thor and had chased San around campus with his hammer for refusing to confess to Wooyoung.

The morning isn’t much better – he wakes up with his arm pressed against Wooyoung’s bare back and their feet tangled together and most of Wooyoung’s skin on display because apparently San really did steal the covers while he was asleep. He’s kind of regretting not kicking Wooyoung out of his room last night when the other had suggested leaving.

Instead of spending too much time feeling sorry for himself because he’ll never be able to bone his super-hot best friend since said best friend is heterosexual and not interested in him, he takes a (cold) shower and does his usual routine of getting breakfast pastries from the bakery downstairs. He knows that he and Wooyoung could probably come here together and eat, but he likes the happy smile Wooyoung gets when he wakes up and sees the brown paper bags from the bakery. And it’s nice to eat in his room where they don’t have to worry about keeping their laughter down to a socially acceptable volume.

Sometimes, San wonders what would happen if he said to Wooyoung, _I’ve never told you, but I’m bisexual._ He knows he would never judge or be cruel – Wooyoung’s most definitely not homophobic. But San can never shake the tiny, irrational fear of, _what happens if he asks, jokingly or otherwise, ‘have you ever been attracted to me?’. Can I really lie to him about that?_

He doesn’t think Wooyoung would ask that. None of his other friends had said anything of the sort when he’d come out to them. But it still feels like by exposing that side of himself he’d be vulnerable, like peeling back the protective exterior of a lemon and leaving his soggy, unwanted love and desire on display.

And yet he feels almost as bad for hiding his sexuality from Wooyoung as he does hiding his feelings for him. He’s such a fucking mess of a person.

Wooyoung is still asleep in San’s bed. He’s nearly completely kicked off the blanket, even though San had pulled it over him before he’d left. Suddenly restless, San puts the bag of pastries on the desk and leaves a post-it note on it: _went to the gym. don’t 4get to lock the door if you leave – key is on shelf as usual. i’ll get it from u in the evening :)_

San closes the door quietly as he leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout [thor yunho](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EH34GgnU8AIwSP4.jpg)
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who left comments last chapter, you all motivated me to update fast!! pls let me know what you thought of this chapter, or lets chat about thor yunho, i just reallyyyyy love reading comments :P next chapter should be up before monday!


	3. when u hold me close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is gonna get a little more spicy ^__^

The exam goes alright. Wooyoung definitely aced the essay question, but most of the math section had been nothing like the past papers he’d practiced. Jongho is the only one who feels super confident, but then again, he’s a whiz kid who’d skipped a grade due to overperformance.

Yeosang walks back from the exam hall with him, since Jongho is meeting his girlfriend for their eight-month anniversary date. Wooyoung thinks that seems like an odd anniversary to celebrate, but he’s also single and pining after someone he’ll never be able to have, so he’s probably not the best person to ask on matters like that.

“I’ve been thinking about the thing with you and San,” Yeosang says carefully, probably aware that starting a sentence like that will immediately put Wooyoung on edge, “and I think the main problem you guys have is a lack of honesty with each other.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Wow, how did you come up with that one, Sherlock? And that’s shit advice. If I told him about my,” he glances around to make sure nobody nearby who could overhear them, “you-know-what and he takes it badly, then tells me he never wants to see me again and we stop being friends, we’ll have far bigger problems than a lack of honesty with each other.”

“I’m not talking about you being in love with him-” Yeosang’s voice cuts off as Wooyoung slams his hand over Yeosang’s mouth and muffles the rest of his sentence.

“I’m not _in love_ with him!” he says, outraged. “It’s a harmless crush that will probably go away soon.” He yelps when Yeosang licks the inside of his palm, letting go of him automatically. “Ew, fuck you.”

“I don’t see any point in lying to yourself,” Yeosang says, ignoring Wooyoung as he makes a show of rubbing his palm on Yeosang’s jacket. “You’ve clearly had feelings for him for at least a year, maybe longer, but I didn’t know you back then and I can’t take your word for it. Also, I think it’s time to consider the possibility that you might not be, you know, heterosexual.”

“I know that.” Wooyoung absolutely wants this conversation to end as soon as possible.

Yeosang isn’t wrong and Wooyoung really does know that – he knows, frankly, that he’s never had feelings (or even any attraction beyond aesthetic appreciation) for pretty girls, as much as he’s tried to convince himself otherwise. The date with Heewon had just been the final nail in the coffin. He also knows he likes San and he knows he likes boys theoretically, but the only practical context he’s ever really experienced it in are his feelings for San. Sometimes, late at night, when he’s relaxed into the dark and sleeplessness and is able to examine his feelings without flinching away, he wonders whether he’s ever liked anyone as much as he likes San. He definitely doesn’t remember ever feeling this much hopeless yearning or physical attraction towards anybody before. Then again, none of the friends he’d known before San had been remotely as good looking as him.

“And have you ever considered telling San about that part? Leaving out anything about your… crush.” Yeosang’s voice is gentle, like Wooyoung is a scared raccoon he’s trying not to spook.

“I have considered it,” Wooyoung says reluctantly, because he absolutely hates talking about this, “but the thing is…” he trails off and sighs, trying to find the right words. “I feel like I’m always so obvious about my, um, feelings whenever I’m with him. And I think if it wasn’t for the fact that he doesn’t think there’s a possibility of me being into him like _that_ then he’d have picked up on it already. I hate hiding stuff from him, so much, but I’m also just really scared of messing things up between us.”

Yeosang gives him a sad smile, but it looks more sympathetic than pitying, which is a relief. If Yeosang started pitying his situation, Wooyoung might actually have a breakdown.

Before they can continue the conversation, Wooyoung’s phone pings in his pocket. He pulls it out, grateful for the distraction.

 **san (3.24pm)**  
hey how did ur exam go  
btw there’s a frat party tonight u should come  
i won’t take no for an answer u deserve to let loose after ur exam!!!

San isn’t in a frat, but several of his friends are, so he always gets automatic invites to any of their parties. Wooyoung’s been to a few of the parties, but it’s not really his scene. He likes drinking and going out, but the events there are next level intense; plus, he always feels slightly out of place when San is with his other friends.

“What did San say?” Yeosang asks from next to him, and Wooyoung hates that Yeosang was probably able to guess who had texted based solely on Wooyoung’s expression, since he can’t see the phone screen.

“He’s inviting me to a frat party.”

“You should go.”

“What?” Wooyoung looks at him in surprise. Yeosang knows frat parties aren’t exactly his thing.

“When was the last time you went out this semester? And if you don’t, San will probably just wake you up anyway when he decides he wants to drunk cuddle in the middle of the night.”

“I really regret telling you about that.” Wooyoung says, but he has to admit Yeosang makes a pretty valid point. He also likes reminding San that he isn’t the only one who can have a good time at a party. “But fine, I’ll go. This is one of the only weekends where I won’t have any deadlines.”

He types out a quick reply:

 **wooyoung @ san (3.28pm)**  
exam was ok, and sure thing! sounds fun

“Just make sure you don’t drink too much,” Yeosang says, looking amused that he’s clearly won this round.

“Yeah, whatever,” Wooyoung replies, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

* * *

The party is in full swing by the time Wooyoung and San arrive; Wooyoung can barely hear his own thoughts over the thumping music, some shitty EDM song blasting through the speakers. Sweaty bodies push against them from all sides as they shove their way through the crowd to the cooler, where the drinks are kept.

“You have a fine selection between cheap beer, more cheap beer and, oh, would you look at that, more cheap beer.” San says, dramatically pulling out two cans from the cooler and handing one to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes in amusement, cracking the can open and taking a sip. Before he can reply, however, a tall guy wearing a black leather jacket grabs San into a hug, slapping his back and whispering something into his ear. San’s cheeks flush slightly, and he tries to shove the guy away, but the guy doesn’t let him go and turns to face Wooyoung with a grin and an arm wrapped tightly around San.

“Hi, Wooyoung,” he says, offering Wooyoung a fist-bump with his free hand, which he hesitantly returns. “We’ve met before. I’m Mingi, one of San’s dearest friends. He’s told us _so_ much about you.”

Wooyoung vaguely remembers him, probably from some other party. San looks very uncomfortable as he finally manages to escape Mingi’s grip. “Wooyoung, let’s go. I’ll show you the, uh, balcony.”

“Balcony, huh?” Mingi says with a smirk that Wooyoung doesn’t quite understand. “How ro-”

San steps on his foot, and his words are cut off with a pained grunt.

“Come on.” San grabs Wooyoung’s arm and tugs him away from Mingi who just laughs as he watches them leave. “Sorry about that. He’s probably drunk, I dunno why he was acting like that.”

Wooyoung thinks it was actually San who was behaving weirdly but decides not to comment. They push their way through the crowd, San glancing around as though trying to steer clear from anyone who looks inclined to approach them.

Unfortunately for him, someone else catches sight of them and yells out “Yo, San! Sanie! S- bro, over here!”

San freezes, tense, as the guy approaches them. “Hey, Yunho, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering why you’re hiding over _here_ when you could be partying with us over there. Oh, hi, Wooyoung.”

“Hi,” Wooyoung replies, somewhat surprised by the fact that the other guy knows who he is when he doesn’t even remember meeting him.

“We’re playing beer pong; I need you on my team. You can’t leave me hanging, dude.” Yunho says to San and nods towards the other side of the room where a table has been set up, cups lining both edges.

San looks at Wooyoung with a half-shrug, as though saying ‘your call’. Yunho catches sight of the movement and immediately changes his tactic.

“Wooyoung, I wanna hang with you. Sanie’s always talking about you, and I want us to be real good friends.” He hands Wooyoung an unopened beer can, which he takes; he’d forgotten his other one in the cooler room. “Come play beer pong, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

San looks like he’s constipated. Wooyoung glances at the table through dim lighting of the room, the dull thud of EDM music and slight smell of weed and sweat setting the college party scene. It’s been a while since he was at such a rowdy party. _Why not_ , he thinks, _seriously, why not_.

“Okay, sure, let’s go.”

* * *

“You- you’re fucking _cheating_ ,” San says, pointing a finger at Wooyoung in accusation from across the table.

Hongjoong – one of San’s friends who’s got a mullet and an absolutely killer aim – gives Wooyoung a high-five from next to him, slightly off-centre. “That was awesome.”

“That was not awesome.” San grumbles, but still plucks the small ball out of the cup and downs its contents with a grimace. Wooyoung didn’t cheat, he’s just turning out to be surprisingly good at beer pong. Paired with the fact that Hongjoong is making almost all his shots with scary accuracy, San and Yunho’s team has been losing. By a lot.

That isn’t to say Wooyoung isn’t drunk, because he’s most definitely drunker than he’s been in a long time. The room has gone a little fuzzy around the edges, the thump of the music feels like it’s beating along with the pace of his heart. He’s having so much fun and every time San smiles at him teasingly, his heart feels like it skips several beats. But he’s happy and riding on waves of alcohol so he doesn’t even have to worry about that.

“C’mon, man, you’ve got this, I believe in you.” Yunho grabs San’s shoulders and turns him towards the table to make the next shot. “I’m gonna trust you, don’t let me down.”

“Fuck off,” San says, closing one of his eyes and squinting at the other side of the table as he prepares to throw the small ball. Wooyoung’s team has four cups left, all of them filled with shitty cider because they’d run out of beer (so, technically, they were playing cider-pong, as Yunho had pointed out).

The ball flies in a graceful arc and lands directly in one of the red cups with a plop. A few drops of cider spray on to the table. San and Yunho let out victorious whoops and do a far more elaborate high-five than the one Wooyoung and Hongjoong had done, though not quite as complicated as the handshake San and Wooyoung have developed over the years.

Hongjoong hands Wooyoung the cup, looking at him expectantly. “How come I’m always the one who has to drink it,” he grumbles, taking the cup nonetheless.

“I have a higher target accuracy rate so it’s only fair that you take the penalties.” Hongjoong says with a shrug. “Also, I need to work on my dissertation tomorrow. I’m not drinking tonight.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that as a warning before I agreed to team up with you,” Wooyoung says, but he can’t really argue with that so he begrudgingly chugs the drink, wincing at the bitter aftertaste of the cider while Yunho and San whoop in approval.

Wooyoung’s starting to feel kind of giddy, and he sways slightly as he holds the soggy ball and takes aim. Before he can throw it, someone slaps him on the back and nearly sends him careening into the table.

“We’re playing truth or dare, be there or be square,” Mingi says, putting his arms around Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Then he laughs. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Wooyoung blinks, a little disoriented. Mingi’s already leading him away from the beer pong table. The room is spinning a little, but in a good way. He wonders where San is, but before he can properly formulate the thought, San’s appeared on his other side and is tugging him out of Mingi’s hold.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want,” San tells him, leaning in so that his voice is audible over the loud music. “Things can get a little… crazy.”

“You think I’m not tough enough?” Wooyoung replies playfully. They’re standing very close to each other.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. But if you insist, be my guest,” San bows towards the other room jokingly, and Wooyoung tries to shove him but misses his arm and stumbles slightly, falling against him instead. And San – clingy, touchy San who can usually never keep his hands off Wooyoung – immediately moves back, reaching out to make sure Wooyoung isn’t about to fall over but then letting his hands drop.

It hurts a bit, but the alcohol helps numb the feeling. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

The room has a large group of people, most of whom Wooyoung has never seen before, and though the remainder looking vaguely familiar, he definitely couldn’t name most of them. Two girls in the middle of the room are locked in a passionate kiss, as the people around them cheer. One of the girls has blue hair and she gives a bow and gently slaps the other girl’s ass when they break apart.

“I warned you,” San mutters from beside him. He tugs Wooyoung’s arm and they sit down next to some girls Wooyoung thinks might be from the swim team. He notices that Mingi and the rest of San’s friends are sitting on the opposite side of the room, and wonders whether San chose this spot intentionally.

San was right, the game is really fucking crazy. Wooyoung watches, dazed, as people he doesn’t know are dared to give each other lap dances, spank each other and remove articles of clothing. Two of the frat boys are told to make out but instead end up awkwardly touching tongues for a few seconds. The girl with the blue hair takes her shirt off. Yunho gives one of the swim team girls a large hickey on her neck.

Barely anyone chooses truth, and Wooyoung can see why: the questions are all intensely invasive. _Have you gotten off to anyone in this room? How many people have you given head to? If you had to take it up the ass, who in this room would you pick to do the honours for you?_

Wooyoung would probably rather chug cyanide than answer any of those questions. 

Surprisingly, though, he’s not at all concerned about getting picked to do a dare. He’s in relatively good shape so removing clothing would only be a little embarrassing, and the alcohol has made him dizzy enough that all the other dares seem hilariously fun. He’s probably the only guy here who could do all of the dares with any of the girls and still be totally unphased.

So, when Yunho spins the bottle and it lands on Wooyoung, he’s not really nervous and more tingling with anticipation. Mingi whispers something to Yunho, and San warningly says, “Don’t.” Wooyoung glances next to him and sees that San is glaring daggers across the room.

“Truth or dare?” Yunho asks.

“Um, dare.” Wooyoung doesn’t know why San feels the need to protect him; he’s not a kid, and he might not be as experienced as San, but he could definitely pull off any of the dares that have happened so far.

“Wooyoung, your dare is to do a body shot with San.” Yunho says after a second, and everyone in the room gives a whoop as they’ve done after the announcement of all the dares.

“What?” he asks. His mind is fuzzy with alcohol. _Why with San?_ None of the other dares had involved friends doing things with each other; it had all been people who barely knew each other. Except for the blue haired girl and the girl she’d kissed, but Wooyoung is relatively sure that they’re fucking.

“You know, like one of you has to drink – well, lick is probably more accurate – tequila off the other person’s stomach. It’s up to you whether you’d rather be the lick-er or lick-ee.” Yunho has started giggling, and Mingi too, both of them looking at the murderous expression on San’s face.

“Oh,” Wooyoung says. His thoughts are blank, all of the music and chatter fading to white noise. He turns to San, who is still glaring across the room. Wooyoung doesn’t know whether he’s avoiding looking at him on purpose.

He wants to make a joke, _to lick or be licked, that is the question_ or some shit, but he also feels like all of his organs have dropped out of his body and left a vacuum of nothingness in their place. San seems really angry. _Is the idea of doing the dare that gross to him?_

It’s definitely the alcohol that’s loosened Wooyoung’s inhibitions, but he’s curious in a sick way to see what would happen if he and San went through with the dare. He wants to know how it would feel, in a way similar to poking a scab before it’s healed.

“Well?” he asks San, knowing that he’s metaphorically placing the ball in his court. San’s eyes meet his, but Wooyoung is too drunk to understand what the look he gives him means.

The people around them have started cheering – a chant of _do it, do it_ , or something – but he can’t even focus on that. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears. Part of him wonders how this looks to all the others; just two best friends doing a body shot for fun at a party, no big deal. _This isn’t a big deal_ , he tells himself. _Don’t make it into something it isn’t_.

San stands up and Wooyoung follows him, swaying slightly. He might be even drunker than he had thought. He can see Mingi grab the bottle of tequila and motion at the table that had been pushed aside earlier to make space.

“So, who’s it gonna be?” Mingi asks, nodding his head at the bottle.

Wooyoung looks at San; as their eyes meet his heart gives a heavy thump. He’s too drunk to know what to do to seem more casual about this. “You do me,” he manages to say, then belatedly realises how that sounded. The crowd around them is talking too loudly for their voices to be audible over the chatter and music. The cider and beer churns uncomfortably in Wooyoung’s stomach, and he sort of regrets drinking so much. At the same time, there’s no way he’d be able to survive this while sober.

San hesitates for a long moment that feels like both a second and an eternity, then gives a shrug. “Okay.”

Wooyoung feels lightheaded as he lies back on the table, tugging his shirt up to his ribcage. San is clearly avoiding eye contact and it’s stressing him out more than having his abs out in front of a room full of mostly strangers.

Mingi pours the tequila directly onto his stomach, way too much, with some of the sticky liquid flowing between the divots of his abs and down his sides and dripping onto the table. Wooyoung kind of wants to laugh because it tickles and he has no idea what the hell he’s doing, but he doesn’t want more of the liquid to spill everywhere. Then San finally looks at him and nothing about the situation seems funny anymore.

San’s eyes are determined, and then he’s gripping Wooyoung’s hips and lowering his head and holy fucking shit Wooyoung can’t breathe because his brain immediately informs him that this is what it would look like if his best friend was gonna blow him.

And then San’s grip tightens and his tongue is on Wooyoung’s skin, trailing a hot, wet path up his naval and _jesus christ_ , Wooyoung can barely hold back the groan caught in his throat because it feels really _good _and this is so fucking embarrassing but it’s also the hottest thing he’s ever experienced in his entire goddamn life. Instead of pulling off after the one mandatory lick, San drags his tongue over Wooyoung’s abs a second time, and a third, and Wooyoung can’t decide whether this is heaven or absolute hell.__

And then San looks up at him, eyes dark and pupils blown out, his tongue still on Wooyoung’s body and his hands gripping Wooyoung’s hips tightly enough that it might bruise and Wooyoung thinks he might die, death-by-horniness, right there on the table. 

His whispered “fuck,” is lost in the loud cheering of the crowd, and then San is finally pulling back and reaching out to help Wooyoung off the table. 

As Wooyoung stands, his shirt drops back into place, stomach uncomfortably sticky, and he’s _so_ glad he didn’t wear leather pants today because he’s actually fucking getting hard in the middle of this party, except now it only feels embarrassing instead of good; even though he’s pretty sure nobody - not even San - can tell, he feels like his privacy has been violated, and then he feels guilty for getting turned on by something that was probably just a harmless party game for San. 

“That was so sexy,” the blue haired girl tells him and he tries to smile at her but San is standing next to him and he can still practically feel San’s tongue on his stomach and he just really doesn’t want to be in this room full of strangers right now. 

“I- I’m gonna grab a drink,” he manages to force out in San’s general direction and stumbles out of the room. 

* * *

San is going to absolutely fucking murder Jeong Yunho. And Mingi, too. A dramatic double homicide. 

As soon as Wooyoung leaves the room he storms over to the two motherfuckers who have been a pain in his ass the entire party. He’s never regretted his choice in friendships more. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He demands as Yunho catches sight of him with a guilty look. 

“In my defence,” Yunho says, holding his hands up in front of himself like he wants to placate San, “it was Mingi’s idea.” 

Mingi, who had just been taking a sip of his beer, chokes slightly. “Excuse me? You said we should dare them to kiss and I told you there’s no way San would do that. This was just an alternative suggestion.” 

“I hate you both and I’m leaving this party,” San says. 

“Sanieeee!” Yunho does a puppy-eyes face that makes San want to punch him. “You should be thanking us. Everyone here thought it was super cool, and this is the most action you’ve ever gotten with Wooyoung except that one time you drunk cuddled, but that doesn’t count because you were asleep. This was definitely better. I was actually kind of worried you guys were gonna fuck on the table, or something. It was really intense.” 

San wonders what the odds of him getting away with murdering Yunho are when the room is full of potential witnesses. “I’m going to piss in your beer,” he says. 

Yunho’s nose wrinkles. “Gross. Anyway, where’s loverboy?” 

“Don’t call him that. I don’t know and I’m going to go look for him. If you try anything else tonight, I _will_ leak the videos of you, high as fuck, wearing a watermelon helmet and doing the macarena onto the uni facebook page. Don’t test me, Yunho.” 

With that, he storms out of the room. Wooyoung had seemed pretty out of it, so maybe he’d gone to get some water from the kitchen or bathroom. A good place to start looking. 

San doesn’t want to think about what just happened; almost wishes he could wipe it from his memory so that he would forget that he’d ever tasted Wooyoung’s skin. The vague, blurry images he’d sometimes imagined of him and Wooyoung like that, although admittedly in a very different context, suddenly seem far more tangible and clear, like adjusting the focus on a camera lens. 

He’s just really sad. And horny, but in the worst kind of way. The _no-matter-how-much-you-want-him-he-isn’t-yours_ kind of way. He sort of wants to go jerk off to try get rid of the weird tension he feels down to his bones, but finding Wooyoung and making sure he’s okay is more important, so he walks down the hallway to check whether Wooyoung is in the bathroom. 

His instinct is right (as usual, when it comes to Wooyoung). He finds him bent over the bathroom sink, looking ready to be sick at any moment. He seems even more plastered than he’d been a few minutes ago, probably because more of the copious amounts of alcohol they’d drank in such a short amount of time is entering his system. 

“Wooyoung,” San says gently, slowly approaching him and putting a hand on his back. 

Wooyoung groans, not looking up from the sink. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he says, words slurred and half-muffled. 

“That’s fine, but maybe the toilet is a better option for that,” San says, trying to navigate him away from the sink and towards said toilet. This isn’t the first time he’s taken care of a drunk Wooyoung, although usually Wooyoung is the one looking after him while he’s drunk or hungover. Wooyoung is impressively good at handling his alcohol as well as knowing his limits, but San guesses the beer pong was what had done it. 

San’s pretty surprised at himself for being coherent despite drinking a similar amount. Maybe his brain knows it’s important for him to be here for Wooyoung right now. His surroundings only seem slightly blurry, his thought process a little slower, but that could also be because Wooyoung is leaning against him and allowing him to move both of them to sit down on the floor next to the toilet. 

Wooyoung falls against his shoulder, clearly barely able to sit upright. San can’t remember the last time he’s seen him so fucked up. _Did he get more alcohol after leaving the room, when he’d said he wanted a drink?_

“Wooyoung,” San says. “Have you had some water?” 

Wooyoung shakes his head. It’s still resting against San’s shoulder so he can feel the movement. “I don’t feel good,” Wooyoung mumbles. 

“I’ll get you water, hold on.” San carefully adjusts Wooyoung so that he’s resting against the wall, facing the toilet in case he needs to throw up. Wooyoung says something unintelligible and slides down the wall so that he’s lying on the floor. 

San grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. His throat feels dry and tight, so he drinks it himself. He fills it a second time and crouches down next to Wooyoung, who’s curled on the floor with his eyes closed. 

“You need to drink this,” San tells him, trying to lift him back into a sitting position as gently as he can. 

Wooyoung shakes his head. “No drink. Gonna puke.” 

“It’s just water, it’ll make you feel better,” San says. The glaring, blue-tinted bathroom light catches in Wooyoung’s hair. The sight is oddly beautiful; a pretty boy in ripped jeans lying on the floor of a bathroom at a college party. The ultimate picture of youth degeneracy. 

Wooyoung still refuses to sit up, and San sets the glass of water aside to lift him. As soon as he lets him go, Wooyoung slides back down onto the floor. 

“Wooyoung, baby, you’ve got to cooperate with me,” San says, the term of endearment slipping out uninvited. He freezes, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Wooyoung shudders, his face pinching in a pained expression. “Don’t call me that,” he mumbles. 

San tries to ignore the sting in his heart, forcing himself instead to be grateful that Wooyoung almost certainly won’t be able to remember this. He’d already known the other would never reciprocate his feelings, but the reminder still hurts. 

He manages to get Wooyoung to sit upright and is even able to get him to have a few sips of water, which is better than nothing and will have to do for now. He’s about to turn away to put the cup back on the table when Wooyoung clutches at his sleeve, his head falling forward to rest against San’s collarbone. “San,” Wooyoung whispers. His lips catch against San’s shirt. 

“Yeah?” San can’t breathe. This whole night has been too much for him. He doesn’t think he can survive more of this, feels like someone who’s severely dehydrated and has a glass of water in front of them, only to be told they can’t drink any of it. 

Wooyoung’s hand slides up San’s arm, moving to his shoulders and pulling San into something like a hug. His hands fist the fabric of San’s shirt. He whispers his name again, but this time his mouth brushes against the bare skin of San’s neck. 

San doesn’t know how evil he must have been in his past life to have to suffer like this now. Heart pounding, he tries to untangle himself from Wooyoung and move away. Wooyoung grips him more tightly and San nearly falls over and drops the water, so he puts the glass onto the floor next to them. San can’t think like this, with Wooyoung’s warm, solid form against him and the scent of his cologne enveloping his senses. 

And then Wooyoung pushes forward and San really does lose his balance, falling back against the floor and banging his head against the tiles. His head pulses with sharp pain and he groans. It takes him a second to realise Wooyoung is halfway on top of him, both of them lying horizontally on the floor. And then a second realisation hits him like a fucking train. 

Wooyoung is hard. 

He can feel it against his thigh, and _jesus christ_ what the fuck is he supposed to do. He can’t think, can’t breathe, his head hurts real fucking bad, and then Wooyoung rolls his hips forward, pressing his face into San’s neck and giving a tiny whimper, and San thinks he might actually lose his fucking mind. He doesn’t know how the hell he ended up in this situation, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to do when his platonic best friend whom he’s been in love with for literal years gets drunk off his face and has him pinned to the floor and starts fucking _getting off_ on him. 

He’s hard too, his body is screaming at him _this person here is the one you’ve been wanting so intensely, this is what you’ve been waiting for_ , but nothing about this is what he’s wanted. What he’s dreamed of is sober Wooyoung wanting him back, the two of them in harmony, coming apart in each other’s arms. Not Wooyoung, so drunk he’s barely conscious, responding to his body’s physical needs and clearly not actually consenting to any of this. San knows if Wooyoung’s actually able to remember anything, he’d definitely be disgusted. 

“Wooyoung, stop,” he croaks. Wooyoung groans into his neck, and the sound makes something inside San break. He pushes Wooyoung off, gentle but firm. His hands are shaking. He needs to get someone to call Wooyoung an Uber as soon as possible, needs to get as far away from this goddamn bathroom as he can. Wooyoung groans again, but this time the sound is pained instead of pleasured, and San’s eyes widen as he’s able to predict what’s about to happen just in time to push Wooyoung against the ceramic toilet bowl seat. 

Wooyoung vomits into the toilet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whewwww here we go. i can't wait to hear all your thoughts so please leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter :D
> 
> next update might take a little longer but i'll try and get it out asap!!


	4. vibe check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saddle up cowboys, this chapter goes hard on the mutual pining #noregrets

Hangovers are bad on a regular day, because, realistically, nobody enjoys having a pounding headache and the feeling of constantly being a few seconds away from throwing up. Everything just seems worse when one is hungover; sunny days turn miserable and food that would usually seem delicious becomes nausea-inducing.

But being hungover is a thousand times worse when it’s paired with vague memories of utter humiliation from the previous night. Especially when these memories are so fragmented that it’s hard to piece together what exactly happened, but all the evidence points to one thing: Wooyoung’s only option right now is to drop out of university, legally change his name and move to a sheep farm in Siberia.

He isn’t even sure whether there are sheep farms in Siberia. That’s how desperate the situation is.

Wooyoung buries his face deeper into the pillow, hoping to maybe suffocate so that he won’t have to deal with the consequences of last night. He _cannot_ believe that happened. The memories make his skin sting and stomach curl with fresh waves of humiliation, so excruciating to recall that it physically pains him.

Beer pong, San’s friends; those memories are relatively clear. Things start getting a bit more disjointed and blurry after that, but he can remember his back against the table with San’s hands pinning him down, tequila and San’s tongue on his abs. Leaving the room and downing two more shots to try and dull the heat pulsing through his veins. Somehow ending up lying on the bathroom floor; cold and solid but then hot because he wasn’t on the floor, he was lying on San. What he’d done next.

If Wooyoung had anything left in his stomach he would definitely throw up again. His skin crawls with fresh waves of mortification. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look San in the eye ever again after that.

He doesn’t remember what had happened after that, but he must have gotten home somehow because he’d woken up in his own bed with the worst hangover of his life. And now he’s debating whether to text Yeosang, because he could really use an aspirin, but he also wants to stay curled up as a miserable lump in his bed and Yeosang will definitely have questions he doesn’t want to answer.

Even though the curtains are closed, the dim lighting of his room still seems too bright. Wooyoung sighs and reaches for his phone off his bedside table, noticing that it was plugged into its charger. There’s a full glass of water beside it, which he gratefully chugs down to soothe his dry throat. It makes him feel more nauseous but also less like he’d swallowed a whole cactus, which he counts as a win. He grabs his phone and the screen lights up, and he squints as he checks his notifications. A few emails from his university, social media updates, and several unopened texts.

 **yeosang (9.27am)**  
how was the party?????  
text me when u wake up i want details  
did anything happen with he-who-must-not-be-named?

Wooyoung types out a quick reply:

 **wooyoung @ yeosang (1.35pm)**  
nah nothing tbh.. it was pretty boring actually  
im super hungover tho  
any chance u could drop by with an aspirin or something?

There’s also a text from San. The unpleasant feeling in his gut intensifies tenfold as soon as he sees the notification, and he reads the message preview without opening it, heart hammering in his chest.

 **san (5.43 am)**  
hey i hope you’re feeling ok, let me know if there’s anything i can do to help

Wooyoung resists the urge to throw his phone across the room and instead burrows further under his blanket. Maybe he can just stay here forever. Yeosang could bring him food and lecture notes and then Wooyoung would only have to leave his bed for exams, which never coincide with San’s exams anyway. He’d never have to face him, never have to acknowledge what had happened.

This is exactly why he hadn’t been planning on acting on his feelings. A world in which he and San aren’t best friends, or one where their friendship is tainted with tension and awkwardness, just seems wrong and unnatural. Or, he thinks, maybe he has nothing to lose at this point. He tries to imagine it, pictures saying the words: _‘San, I’m really sorry for last night. The thing is, I’ve never been this attracted to someone before and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I hope this doesn’t make things weird between us and that you don’t hate me now.’_. On the other hand, there’s absolutely no way San hasn’t already figured out how he feels after last night. There are few less subtle ways indicating that someone is sexually interested in you than them rubbing their boner on you.

Wooyoung presses his palms against his eyes, headache intensifying. There’s a knock on the door and he flinches, the sharp noise cutting through his head like a blade. “Come in,” he says, voice hoarse.

He hears the door open and peeks out from under the blanket, expecting to see Yeosang, hopefully with an aspirin. The sight of San in his room makes his stomach swoop in a horrible way. He wonders whether he could get away with pretending to be asleep, but that would probably be a stretch considering that he’d just said something, like, three seconds ago. He keeps most of his face hidden behind the blanket, partly because his cheeks are burning with embarrassment and partly because he knows he looks like shit right now.

“Sorry,” San says, posture tense and hands in his pockets, “I know you probably don’t feel great. Not because of- I just- I wanted to come by and check up on you. I’m sorry. I was gonna come a bit later, but- I needed- sorry.”

He looks so jittery and nervous that Wooyoung almost wants to ask what the matter is when he realises that San probably is expecting him to try and jump his bones at any second, since (as last night proves) he has a mortifying lack of self-control. He almost can’t believe San is willingly putting himself in his presence, and figures that the reason San’s being so awkward is probably because he’s trying to figure out the right way to let Wooyoung down gently. _‘I’m flattered by your interest, but I see you as a brother’,_ or _‘you know I’m straight and incapable of returning your love like that, but maybe we can stay best buds’,_ or _‘I don’t feel comfortable being friends with you anymore, I hope you understand’_.

San takes a breath to say something, and Wooyoung panics. “I don’t remember anything from last night,” he blurts out. “After the beer pong, it’s just like someone zapped away my memory. Crazy how alcohol works, right?”

San freezes. His mouth opens and closes once, like he’s genuinely lost for words, then he says, “Uh, yeah. Crazy.”

Wooyoung should probably have thought this plan through better, but he’s starting to feel that it was a stroke of genius. Like this, it’s now up to San to bring up any incidents from the previous night. “So… um, what happened?”

San looks so stunned that Wooyoung almost feels bad; San’s usually quite good at keeping his face neutral when he wants to, so he must be shocked. Wooyoung’s heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his wrists. He wonders whether San is going to bring up the dare, or even what happened in the bathroom; wonders what he should say if he does.

“We, uh, played some drinking games and you were pretty wasted so I took you back in an Uber and… yeah. That’s basically it. I did a body shot off you, but it was… not a big deal. Everyone thought it was cool.”

 _Not a big deal._ The last thing Wooyoung wants to hear, especially when he can’t even think of the dare without a flash of heat shooting through his gut. He’d always told himself those exact words whenever he’d read too much into anything that happened with San; turns out he’d been right all along. It wasn’t a big deal, to San at least. The confirmation hurts a little, but he’s also so hungover and emotionally drained that it’s just another drop in the ocean of discomfort.

“Thanks for- uh, for taking care of me last night. And stuff,” Wooyoung says, hoping desperately that San can’t tell he’s lying through his teeth about not being able to remember anything.

“No problem,” San shifts and pulls a white paper box out of his pocket. “I brought you some aspirin, actually. Maybe it’ll help with your hangover.” He glances around the room, as though realising that there’s no water. “I’ll fill you a cup of water from the hallway,” he says, moving to take the empty glass off Wooyoung’s bedside table.

“No,” Wooyoung says quickly, “thanks, but I’m good.”

His mind is filled with fresh memories from last night, as though San mentioning water had prompted his brain to unlock them. San handing him a glass of water, trying to get him to drink it, Wooyoung resting his head on San’s shoulder, clutching his back, breathing in the skin of his neck, how absolutely overwhelmed he’d been. What he’d done after. He’s _really_ glad he’d pretended that he didn’t remember anything: if San had wanted to talk about it, he could have brought it up. It’s pretty fucking obvious he wants to forget about it just as much as Wooyoung.

San deflates slightly, shoulders drooping a tiny amount. “Okay, I’ll leave it on your desk in case you change your mind.” He pauses, then adds, “By the way, dude, you should shower. You stink so bad.”

_Bro talk_ , Wooyoung thinks. That means they’re going to fall right back into their old patterns, like the whole thing last night really didn’t happen. Even though it’s what he’d wanted, he feels kind of empty now. And not just because he’s puked up everything he ate.

“Fuck off,” he says.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” San pats his pocket where he always keeps his phone.

“Thanks, I will.” Wooyoung says. _No, I won’t_.

San gives a wave and steps out of the room, closing the door after him. Wooyoung buries himself under his covers again with a groan.

That sheep farm in Siberia sounds extremely tempting right now.

* * *

San sits on his uncomfortable desk chair, staring at the music score he’s supposed to be writing an analysis of. He had sat down thirty minutes ago to try and get some work done and had written exactly one sentence of his essay so far, namely the title. He just really can’t wrap his mind around the fact that Wooyoung _doesn’t remember._

San’s every waking moment has been tormented by thoughts of last night, and he couldn’t even get reprieve in sleep since his dream had been a replay of what had happened in the bathroom. Except that things had ended quite a bit differently from reality, with heated bathroom floor sex because apparently lube and bacteria weren’t matters to be concerned with in dreams.

And Wooyoung doesn’t even fucking remember any of it.

San thinks this is brutally unfair, considering he’d had to jerk off three times (once last night as soon as he’d got back to his room, twice in the morning) before he’d been able to face Wooyoung. And he’d felt like shit afterwards, because Wooyoung obviously hadn’t been in his right mind at the time and the fact that he can’t even remember anything it is testament to how far gone he’d been. But even though San feels real fucking guilty about it, he can’t simply forget the way Wooyoung’s body had felt pressed against his, the sounds he’d made, the shape of him against San’s thigh.

He’s actually kind of jealous that Wooyoung has no recollection of the whole thing. San’s life would be way easier if he could forget all of it. Preferably if he could also erase any memory of his non-platonic feelings for Wooyoung and become someone who’s one hundred percent content with friendship and nothing more.

His phone pings and he knows without looking that it’s another message from the groupchat. They’ve been bothering him non-stop, because Mingi and Yunho have apparently decided that they’re matchmakers from heaven and that their dare had somehow magically unlocked the possibility of Wooyoung dating San. San is seriously considering whether he should block them.

In a moment of desperation earlier in the day, he’d wondered whether he should tell them the truth about what had happened, because the whole thing was driving him absolutely insane and the fact that he had nobody to talk to about it (seeing as the person he usually was able to discuss everything with was Wooyoung himself) made everything even worse. But he couldn’t do that for two reasons. Firstly, Yunho and Mingi were insufferable enough as it was, and secondly, Wooyoung would definitely be embarrassed (even though he didn’t remember it) and San would never want to make him uncomfortable by telling other people.

So he’s in this alone. And it fucking sucks.

For approximately the tenth time since he left Wooyoung’s room, he kind of regrets that he didn’t bring everything up and be honest about what had happened. After all, Wooyoung has a right to know the truth, the full truth. Now it’s turned into another thing San has to hide from him and he hates it.

He just hadn’t been able to get the words out, his throat closing up around the sentences he was trying to form. He’d been sure that if he’d tried to say anything about what had happened in the bathroom, what he really felt would’ve be written all over his face, that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from telling Wooyoung everything. _I want you so much it feels like dying. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about that night._

It wasn’t even like the thing in the bathroom had been the end of it, because obviously that would have been too easy and whatever supernatural power had decided to torment San wouldn’t want to stop there. Drunk and so turned on he could barely see straight, he’d called Wooyoung an Uber before realising that he was in no condition to be travelling alone. Once Wooyoung had stopped throwing up, San had dragged him downstairs (half carrying him at this point) and into the car waiting outside. He’d shot the groupchat a quick text that he was leaving, then laid back against the seat and closed his eyes, trying to get a hold on himself. Wooyoung seemed to have dozed off, his head falling against San’s shoulder and softly resting there.

“Boyfriend?” The uber driver – a friendly woman in her forties – had asked knowingly.

San had shaken his head. “No, just a friend,” he’d said, the words stale in his mouth. “Best friend.”

She’d looked at him for a long moment, gaze unreadable, then said, “alright, kiddo. Just make sure he doesn’t puke in my car and we’re good.”

Fortunately, Wooyoung had made it through the trip without puking, and San had managed to get him back to his room with Wooyoung, for the most part, walking on his own. He’d put Wooyoung’s phone on charge, filled him a glass of water because his hangover would definitely be rough, and had been about to leave when Wooyoung had mumbled, “San, stay.”

San had known that Wooyoung probably just wanted to have someone with him while he was feeling so awful – San himself had once crashed in Yunho’s bed during the aftermath of a particularly messy party, and it had meant nothing more than that. And yet Wooyoung’s words had sent fresh shivers along his skin, his mind going on all kinds of unwelcome tangents to scenarios in which Wooyoung had said that while sober, a world in which they’re together like that, where the guilt of how he feels isn’t eating away at him from the inside.

He had wished he could be there for Wooyoung in the way the other wanted him to be, free from lies and complicated feelings. Wished he could stay the night like a good friend and not think twice about anything that had happened, except maybe to make a harmless, friendly joke about it. However, there are limits to the amount of torment he’s willing to inflict on himself, and there are reasons drug addicts don’t hang out with their dealers when they’re trying to stay clean.

So he’d just whispered, “sleep well, Wooyoung,” and slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly.

San lets his head drop on top of the essay he’s supposed to be writing, feeling a migraine coming on. He’s pretty hungover, but it isn’t really bad enough to excuse him from doing his uni work. He knows he’s being a dramatic fucking dumbass and he hates it. His life had been so easy and simple before Wooyoung; then he’d met Wooyoung and the other had fit into his life like a missing puzzle piece, perfectly complementing his personality and energy, understanding him in a way San had never experienced before. Not even needing words because Wooyoung’s mere presence would put San at ease. Like he was the beat to the melody that was San’s life: while it existed without him, he made everything about it better.

Now he’s waxing poetics about unrequited love like he’s fucking Shakespeare. Maybe he should write a song, then at least he’d be channelling all this unwanted emotion into something productive.

He glances back down at the coursework he’s still not been able to get a start on. What he really wants is to go talk to Wooyoung, iron out the creases of awkwardness in their friendship that first appeared the night he’d woken up wrapped around Wooyoung. They’ve had fights before, several times a week sometimes, like when Wooyoung eats San’s food (“what’s yours is mine”, he claims, and then conveniently forgets when San eats Wooyoung’s food as retribution), or when their debates get a little too heated about whether Goku or Saitama would win in a fight (San loves One-Punch Man but Goku is _clearly_ more powerful). But it’s never been awkward before – one of them will just decide to no longer be angry, come to the other’s room with snacks, and everything will be fine again.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, part of him hoping that Wooyoung’s texted but knowing he wouldn’t have. Instead he sees over one hundred unread notifications from the groupchat, mostly courtesy of Mingi and Yunho. With a sigh, he unlocks his phone and skims through them, a few about Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s upcoming dissertations, but the large majority about the body shot from last night.

 **yunho**  
yeah i agree mingi i think hes into san  
like if u did a body shot off me i would be laughing and like ewwww haha  
but wooyoung was like super serious about it

 **mingi**  
lmao exactly  
plus he disappeared right after which was suspicious  
bc he must have been shaken up by it  
otherwise he wouldve been chilling

 **hongjoong**  
u guys are analysing this way too intensely  
i want them to be together as much as all of u  
firstly cuz then san can finally shut up about how much his life sucks  
secondly because we need more lgbt couples on campus  
but like maybe it wasn't that deep  
i mean wooyoung seemed pretty drunk  
maybe he just went to get some water

 **yunho**  
noooooo im sure of it  
i was getting a vibe  
and my vibe readings r never wrong

 **seonghwa**  
what the fuck is a vibe reading

 **yunho**  
like when ur in a room and there's a vibe and u pick up on it  
ur ~reading the vibe~

 **mingi**  
i thought thats called a vibe check

 **yunho**  
no a vibe check is when u check if the other person is vibing  
like r they feeling good or not good  
vibe reading is more complex and difficult to master

 **seonghwa**  
not a day goes by when i dont wonder why the hell im friends with you

 **yunho**  
cuz u love me :p  
anyway back 2 the topic

 **san**  
can u guys shut uppppppp  
my phone keeps getting notifs and im trying to study

 **mingi**  
omg  
here he is

 **yunho**  
took him long enough

 **mingi**  
SO WHAT HAPPENED WHEN U GUYS LEFT  
TELL US EVERYTHING

 **san**  
nothing he was sick so i got us an uber back  
he went to sleep and i went back 2 my room and that was it

 **yunho**  
boring zzzzzzzz  
tht was me being asleep  
mingi and i have a plan 4 next party btw  
neither of u get that fucked up again or else you'll ruin our idea  
but picture this  
wooyoung and san  
seven minutes in heaven

 **san**  
absolutely not

 **mingi**  
whyyyyyy :(((((((

 **san**  
fuck u thats why

 **mingi**  
no  
fuck u x50

 **hongjoong**  
guys pls  
how about this for an idea  
nobody gets drunk or is at a party  
san and wooyoung sit down and have a proper discussion  
san tells him the truth about his feelings  
they communicate like functional adults

 **san**  
i think i would rather die

 **hongjoong**  
for fucks sake i give up

 **seonghwa**  
theyre hopeless

 **hongjoong**  
ok but why not at least start by discussing last night  
that wld be a good start and open the general conversation

 **san**  
theres no convo to be had  
wooyoung doesnt even remember anything

 **yunho**  
WHAT!!!!!!????

 **mingi**  
WHATTTFHHHFUCKKKK???

 **seonghwa**  
wait for real??

 **san**  
yeah :/  
he doesnt remember the dare at least  
i kinda told him what happened but also not rly  
i was like ya we did a body shot but it wasnt a big deal and ppl thought it was cool

 **yunho**  
omfgggg.......  
no words.....  
cant believe this...  
need some time to reflect....

 **mingi**  
man that sucks  
how's he supposed to realise he's liked u all along  
and that he wants more of whatever u guys were doing on the table  
IF HE DOESNT REMEMBER???

 **san**  
bro idk

 **hongjoong**  
ok that complicates things a bit  
but still !! i think you should talk to him  
i think u guys lack communication w each other

 **seonghwa**  
you THINK?

 **san**  
nah i just want to forget about it  
things felt weird between us today

 **yunho**  
u mean like the vibes were off?? ;)

 **mingi**  
bro stfu with ur vibes shit  
and dont do the wink smile its creeping me out

 **san**  
i was just being weird about everything  
i want us to be able to be friends again  
like i think i could b happy w nothing ever happening between us  
as long as hes happy and we're still friends before anything else

 **mingi**  
thats so cornyyyy ur so whipped i love it

 **san**  
i hate u

* * *

By the time the evening rolls around, Wooyoung feels slightly more like a human and less like a lump of misery, nausea and humiliation. Since San thinks he’s forgotten about last night, he’s decided to do exactly that. All thoughts of the dare and anything that may or may not have happened after have been banished.

And now that he basically has confirmation that San doesn’t like him back (squishing the tiny part of hopefulness he’d sometimes allowed himself to feel), he’s come up with a plan of how he’s going to get over San. He’s increasingly realising that the way he’d reacted at the party to San must have partially been due to his sexual inexperience. He’d been so overwhelmed by the small touches that he’d reacted way more than he would have if he wasn’t, well, a total virgin. So, his amazing conclusion is that all he needs to do to get over San is have sex with someone who isn’t him (okay, maybe not sex – the idea makes his stomach twist uncomfortably – but other stuff). All his problems will be solved and he’ll be able to go back to being friends with San without any complications.

With this optimism, he types up two texts, one to Yeosang and one to San.

 **wooyoung @ yeosang (8.53pm)**  
hey!! so uhm i was just wondering  
r there any girls (or boys) u know that u could potentially set me up with?

Wooyoung hopes Yeosang will be able to read between the lines and know he doesn’t really mean the part about the girls. The text to San is a little harder to write, and he hesitates for a long minute before pressing the send button.

 **wooyoung @ san (8.56pm)**  
heyyy this is random but like i was thinking  
do u know anybody u could set me up with?  
from like uni or whatever

San replies almost immediately, and Wooyoung’s heart skips a beat as he opens the message.

 **san (8.57pm)**  
wtf lmao  
uhh sure i’ll ask around

Wooyoung doesn’t feel particularly relieved or any of the emotions he was hoping to feel. He actually feels kind of sad. _It had to be done,_ he tells himself. _He needs to think you don’t like him for your friendship to go back to normal, and like this you’ll hopefully be able to get over him._

He settles down to do some of his coursework and is halfway through the problem set when his phone buzzes again. 

**san (9.42pm)**  
ok so i potentially found someone  
she says she's seen u on campus and thinks ur cute  
and apparently her friend has a massive crush on me  
so she said we could do like a double date tmr  
and all go to the cinema or something 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen as he reads the text, instantly regretting having made the suggestion. A double date with the guy he’s in love with except that both of them are on the date with different people, what could be worse? How’s he supposed to forget about San when he’s literally on the date with him? And there’s no way he can make up an excuse to not go since he was the one who’d made the request barely an hour ago. Fuck. 

**wooyoung @ san (9.44pm)**  
sure, sounds perfect  
can’t wait :) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, trust me, i know. they’re so silly, aren’t they (*pats your head*). don’t worry, we’ll get there eventually.
> 
> a few people have asked about whether i’ve got an update schedule and the answer is no, mostly because i can’t really predict how busy i’ll be with uni etc and i just update as soon as the chapter is done. it shouldn’t take more than a week between updates tho :p
> 
> if u enjoyed the chapter pretty plz leave a comment because they motivate me so much to write <3


	5. gone too far

San’s been having a bad day. He feels like he’s had a few of those recently.

He’d tossed and turned for hours last night before finally being able to fall asleep, because _what the fuck_ his life sucks so bad. Even Hongjoong had agreed that this was a shit situation, and that’s how he knows he isn’t just being dramatic.

Really, there ought to be some kind of law against the person you’re in love with asking you to set them up with someone (literally anyone, which makes it a thousand times worse). San had felt like he’d swallowed a brick when he’d first read Wooyoung’s text, but of course he’d agreed to help because Wooyoung is his best friend and he’d do anything to make him happy. And then he’d sent a screenshot of the messages to the groupchat and for once everyone had agreed that San’s life sucks.

It hadn’t taken long to find someone who wanted to date Wooyoung, since he’s super hot and has a fantastic personality to boot. San had found a few interested parties and had done his best friend duty to find the most suitable match, which had been easy because one of the girls was someone Wooyoung had once mentioned he finds cute (a rare occurrence). The girl, however, had insisted on doing a double date with her friend who has a, quote, “massive crush” on San and she had claimed it would be mega-ultra fun.

 _Yeah, sure._ Fun in the way getting your teeth pulled at the dentist’s is fun.

But a best friend’s duty is a best friend’s duty, so of course he’d agreed and let Wooyoung know about the plan. Besides, San thinks it might be good for himself in the long run to go on the dreaded date. He needs to start getting used to seeing Wooyoung with girls, because whenever Wooyoung inevitably gets a girlfriend San will have to pretend to like her to make him happy. Maybe if he sees Wooyoung all lovey-dovey on a date with someone else it’ll knock some sense into his dumb, weak heart and he’ll finally be able to stop pining over someone he’ll never have.

So now he’s shirtless and trying to pick out what to wear on the date, feeling a little sick to his stomach as he purposefully ignores the many clothes in his closet that belong to Wooyoung. The last date he’d been on had been at least, like, three months ago. Back then he’d still been trying to convince himself that this whole being-in-love-with-his-best-friend thing was temporary, and he’d thought that by going out with as many pretty girls he could find, he’d be able to stop whatever he felt whenever Wooyoung smiled at him. Eventually he’d grown tired of lying to himself and pretending that it wasn’t unfair to the girls he hooked up with, so he’d decided to stop dating people until he got himself together and figured out what to do about his inconvenient feelings.

San’s phone buzzes and he glances over, expecting a text from the groupchat. Instead, Wooyoung’s name lights up on the screen.

 **wooyoung @ san (7.48pm)**  
do u have my green sweater?

A glance inside his closet confirms that he does, in fact, have Wooyoung’s sweater, so he quickly replies, offering to take it to his room. He doesn’t really want to repeat the whole experience of helping Wooyoung get ready for a date with someone else, but best friend duties come first.

Wooyoung doesn’t reply, however a second later there’s a knock on San’s door. He opens it, already knowing who it is and not bothering to put on a shirt. Wooyoung’s seen him wearing less.

“Hey,” Wooyoung says, sounding a little breathless, as though he’d walked over in a hurry.

“Hey, here’s your sweater.” San grabs the green sweater off his shelf and tosses it to Wooyoung, who reacts a second too late and fumbles it. San wonders what’s got him looking so distracted.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung says. “By the way, I wanted to ask you something. You never mentioned who the girl you’re setting me up with is. Do I know her?”

“Yeah. It’s the girl we met at the end-of-semester party last year, with the sparkly green dress. Park Yewon. And her friend Misoo.”

Wooyoung’s mouth forms an o-shape as his face lights up with recognition. _Cute,_ San thinks, then mentally smacks himself. Platonic best bros don’t think those kinds of things about each other. Although if Wooyoung knew the extent of San’s non-platonic thoughts, the kinds of things they did to each other in his imagination, he’d probably never talk to him again.

“She seemed nice,” Wooyoung says after a moment. San can’t tell by his face whether he approves of the choice, and it freaks him out because he’s usually excellent at reading Wooyoung’s expressions. The distance between them that he’s started noticing the past few days feels wider than ever, like a crack slowly splitting the foundations of their friendship.

Suddenly cold, San yanks one of his shirts out of the closet and tugs it on. He couldn’t care less about how he looks on this date, because this isn’t about him. It’s about helping Wooyoung, and nothing else.

“Yeah, she’s nice. Besides, if the date is boring or awkward, you don’t have to see her again. It’s just a date, not marriage or anything.”

Wooyoung snorts, but he looks slightly more relaxed as he pulls the green sweater over his t-shirt. He runs his hand through his hair a few times, as he has a habit of doing, then turns to check his reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” he asks.

There are several words that come to mind, but San goes with the safest option. “Good.”

“So do you.”

“Thanks.”

Wooyoung looks away first, brushing his hand through his hair again. “So, uh, are you ready to go? We should probably set off soon.”

San nods, grabbing his phone, keys and wallet and stuffing them into his pockets. “I’m ready,” he says, even though he feels anything but.

The walk to the restaurant is surprisingly fun. They chat about their classes and Wooyoung jokingly shoves San when he teases Wooyoung about him having a crush on the professor he admires so much; San retaliates by shoving him back and they’re both laughing and it’s like part of the awkwardness that has lingered for days dissipates. One of the metaphorical shards wedged under San’s ribs loosens when he puts an arm around Wooyoung as they walk down the street. San’s always been a physical person, and the past few days he’d been too scared to touch Wooyoung in case he revealed too much or scared him off, with how fragile things had been between them recently. But not touching him had felt unnatural; he’d have to consciously stop himself from reaching out and seeking comfort from a hug or touch of hands. _This is nice,_ he thinks.

Wooyoung is in the middle of a story about his obnoxious know-it-all classmate when they arrive at the restaurant. San can see Yewon and her friend standing outside, and he wishes the walk was a few minutes longer so that he could continue listening to Wooyoung. Or maybe a few hours longer. Wooyoung stops talking abruptly, obviously noticing the girls, and he steps aside so that San’s arm drops away from his shoulder.

“That’s the girl,” he whispers to San, eyes wide and panicked.

“What do you mean?” San asks, confused. He obviously knows that these are the girls they’re meeting up with.

“The girl next to Yewon, she’s the one I was literally just talking about. My classmate that I can’t stand. I have the worst luck ever,” he says miserably.

San’s mouth falls open in understanding. Wooyoung had spent the last five minutes complaining about how much he dislikes one of the girls on his course, and now they would have to hang out with her. “I told you the friend’s name is Misoo! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know her name from class,” Wooyoung hisses. The girls seem to notice them and wave. San glances between them and Wooyoung, raising a hand in a gesture that’s half a wave and half a ‘we’ll-be-with-you-in-a-moment’.

“Well, what do you want to do? Technically I’m the one who’s on a date with her, so you can pretend she doesn’t exist and not talk to her,” San says. “I mean, obviously if you don’t like her, I won’t like her, but I can deal with that.” He doesn’t mention that he wouldn’t have liked any girl he’d have met up with, but he definitely won’t like someone who had scoffed at Wooyoung’s answer in front of the class and made him feel bad about himself.

Wooyoung sighs. “Let’s just go. We’ll figure it out.” 

He tugs San over to them and they introduce themselves politely, but San can tell Wooyoung is tense in a way that isn’t due to nerves. Misoo doesn’t show any sign of recognising Wooyoung, although admittedly she’s mostly busy making heart-eyes at San and twirling her hair around her finger. She’s cute, could potentially be his type if he wasn’t big-time emotionally unavailable, but even if he wasn’t already in love with someone else, he’d never go for someone who’d upset his best friend.

“Shall we go inside?” Yewon suggests after a few minutes of small talk, gently linking her hand with Wooyoung’s arm.

The interior of the restaurant is elegant and modern; San can immediately tell that it isn’t the type of place he and Wooyoung would usually go to. Their scene is more anywhere that offers student discounts, which clearly isn’t the case here.

“I booked us a table,” Yewon says. Her nails are long and dark red, with little black gems embedded in them. It’s kind of intimidating.

They sit down at the table; San next to Misoo and, opposite them, Wooyoung next to Yewon. San’s already bored of this. He wishes he could just be in Wooyoung’s room watching a movie, or even doing the coursework he has due in two days that he hasn’t started. Misoo starts asking him about his day and he tries his best to engage politely in the conversation, but he can’t stop glancing over to the other side of the table to see what Wooyoung is doing. He seems to be getting along well with Yewon, and she’s obviously into him, giggling and blinking up at him through her eyelashes.

San’s relieved when the waiter comes to take their orders, because it means he doesn’t have to try and think of things to say to Misoo. Yewon orders on behalf of all of them which San finds a little obnoxious, but not enough to have a valid reason for feeling as much dislike towards her as he does. The dislike intensifies when she rests her hand on Wooyoung’s on top of the table.

“So, what’s it like doing a degree in music?” Misoo asks him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“It’s great,” San says, glad that the conversation has turned towards a topic he’s actually interested in. “I’m enjoying most of my classes, and it’s a lot of work but I find it very rewarding.”

“That’s so interesting,” she says, even though nothing about what San had just said was particularly interesting. “And do you know what you want to do career-wise?”

“Not really,” San replies. “I have a few fields I’m interested in, but I’m kind of just going with the flow for now. I still have some time to figure it out.”

“Wow,” she says, eyes wide. “I could never do a degree with such few career prospects. Like one of those artsy ones.” She must catch sight of San’s expression because she quickly backtracks. “No! Sorry, that came out wrong. I think it’s super cool that you’re studying music. I barely know anything about it, but surely it’s more fun than writing difficult equations and economic theories all day.”

San very much dislikes the way her tone implies studying music is easy, and also doesn’t point out that Wooyoung is doing the same course as her and is still able to appreciate music and not make snobbish comments about San’s choice in degree.

“No, I get it,” he says instead. “It’s not for everyone.” Misoo, for example, probably wouldn’t last a week in his classes.

Misoo nods, apparently taking his words to mean that he agrees with her. “It’s awesome that you’re able to just chill and do whatever you feel like. I have an internship with a bank this summer, and the closest I’ll get to chilling during the holidays will probably be the five hours of sleep I’ll get every night.”

 _That’s great for you,_ San kind of wants to say, but he also doesn’t want to be a douchebag. After all, he’s super supportive of girls being ambitious, particularly when pursuing careers in fields traditionally dominated by men, but he also wishes Misoo would be slightly less insufferable about it.

His good mood from earlier is really just going down the fucking drain, especially because Wooyoung keeps laughing at what Yewon is saying and the sight of her leaning into his side while giggling grates on his skin like nails on a chalkboard.

Misoo doesn’t seem to notice that he couldn’t care less about her summer internships and talks practically non-stop for the next half hour. It’s good, San supposes, because he just has to nod along and try not to look too uninterested, sometimes throwing in a “yeah, totally,” when she pauses for more than two seconds.

At least the food is delicious, he thinks glumly. Yewon had also ordered a bottle of wine and he sort of wishes he could knock back the whole thing to make listening to Misoo’s story about her professor giving her the best grade in the class a little less excruciating. He’s barely listening at this point, just nodding along and trying not to be too obvious about staring across the table at Wooyoung.

 _Fucking hell,_ he’d never really considered himself the possessive type, but he wishes he could put an arm around Wooyoung, rub the back of his neck, take his hand, anything to make the statement ‘he’s _my_ best friend, he’s known me longer, he likes me better’. Which is dumb, because obviously Wooyoung’s known him longer and obviously Yewon knows he’s closer to San, just in a different way. In the we’re-best-buds kind of way, not in the I-wanna-suck-your-dick kind of way, which is clearly the way she’s interested in him. She just doesn’t know San wants Wooyoung both ways, wants him any and every way Wooyoung is willing to offer. But what he’s offering is the friendship type of way, so San’s got to back off and force himself to pay attention to whatever Misoo is saying about the prestigious university debate society (which she is the leader of, as she’s informed him at least five times). Wooyoung really hadn’t been lying about her being a nightmare, which San should have realised seeing as Wooyoung is usually nice about everyone.

San sneaks another look at Wooyoung, accidentally catching his eye as he glances across the table at San. San hates the way his heart skips a beat as their eyes meet, like he’s the protagonist in a corny romance novel. Wooyoung looks away first, turning to face Yewon as she touches his arm again. She’s being quite forward for the first date, which San would think is awesome if she wasn’t making the moves on Wooyoung. Wooyoung’s cheeks have coloured slightly, even more rosy in the pink-tinted light of the restaurant. San’s chest feels tight.

He knows Wooyoung isn’t very experienced in the love-and-sex department, primarily because he refuses to look twice at the people who have expressed interest in him. San has been wondering since Wooyoung asked him to find him a date whether that was one of the reasons behind his request; whether maybe the many college parties were getting to his head and making him feel pressured to conform to some dumbass societal expectation of what college life is supposed to be like, sex included. He can’t help but wonder whether Wooyoung is planning on sleeping with Yewon, and even though it’s none of San’s business, the mere thought makes him feel like he’s been kicked in the gut.

Before his mind can go on any other, more dangerous tangents relating to Wooyoung and sex, Misoo asks him which nightclub he enjoys going to, forcing him to zone back into the conversation. “Um, probably Club Century?” he offers, naming the first one that pops into his head.

Misoo’s small nose wrinkles. San thinks that she’d be very pretty if it wasn’t for her personality. “But it’s so grimy there!” she exclaims. “Anyway, I think we should go clubbing tonight. Not to Club Century, obviously. We can buy some alcohol and drink it in the park, then head to Le Bonheur or something.”

“Yes!” Yewon chimes in, looking delighted. Wooyoung seems less enthusiastic, but San doesn’t think either of them have much of a choice in this plan if they don’t want to cut their dates short. He very much wouldn’t mind bailing right now, but he doesn’t want to get in the way of Wooyoung having a good time.

They ask for the bill and there’s an awkward moment when they consider how to split it, eventually deciding to quarter it. San knows it would probably be more polite to offer to pay for Misoo’s food, but the restaurant is expensive as shit and he doesn’t care about her opinion of him enough to want to take that step.

Yewon links arms with Wooyoung as they walk down the street to the nearest supermarket. Misoo watches them for a moment, then does the same with San.

San catches Wooyoung looking at their interlinked arms and hopes he doesn’t think San actually likes Misoo, since Wooyoung had made it clear that he can’t stand her – he’d never betray Wooyoung like that. Misoo is telling him about her pet hamster and it would be a fun story if she didn’t keep emphasising how she’s the best pet owner ever that feeds him so many vitamins and takes him to monthly vet check-ups. San thinks he might have to buy himself a bottle of vodka and chug the whole thing to survive the rest of the night.

They part ways temporarily once they’re in the supermarket, both of the girls deciding to get wine while San and Wooyoung head towards the hard liquor section. San grabs a small bottle of Smirnoff vodka off the shelf without preamble, the bottle holding an amount that looks like he could drink the whole thing and be wasted but not quite at the level of ending up in an ambulance.

“Christ,” Wooyoung says, raising an eyebrow at his choice. “Things are going that badly?” Of course Wooyoung would know Smirnoff is San’s drink of choice whenever he’s stressed out.

San exhales a laugh. “You weren’t exaggerating about how full of herself she is,” he says, keeping his voice down so that she doesn’t accidentally overhear, because he might not like her, but he isn’t that cruel.

Wooyoung grins; San notices he looks pleased. “I’ve seriously never met anybody who has such as strong need to let everybody know exactly how accomplished they are,” he says.

“Right? It’s like, I want to be happy for her because it’s great that she’s doing all that, but also, like, can she not rub it in my face every two seconds. Anyway, how are things going for you?” San asks, trying not to sound too interested in the answer.

“She’s nice,” Wooyoung says, turning away to look at the rows of bottles in front of them.

“Okay, anything else? Whenever I ask you about girls you just say they’re nice and that’s it.”

Wooyoung suddenly looks very interested in examining the label of a bottle of whiskey as though he or San know jack shit about what type of whiskey is good beyond that the higher the alcohol percentage, the better. “She’s… got a cat. She showed me a photo of it.”

Before San can call him out on that weird evasive answer, he catches sight of the two girls walking towards them. Misoo giggles as she grabs onto the hand San isn’t holding a bottle of vodka in, but he manages to subtly shake her off by making a show of selecting a mixer (a bottle of pepsi coke) and a plastic cup to mix his drink in.

They pay at the checkout and then Yewon takes them to a nearby park. The park completely empty except for them, only dimly illuminated by some streetlights and the moon, giving the place a somewhat eerie feel. San is glad it’s warm enough outside that he’s comfortable in his sweater despite the breeze.

“I think we should play a drinking game,” Yewon says once they’ve settled down in the grass. She’s tapping against the wine bottle with her sharp, acrylic nails. Misoo nods enthusiastically, and San gives a shrug. Anything is better than being forced to continue having a conversation with Misoo.

“Never have I ever?” Misoo suggests.

“That one’s so boring,” San says, even though he quite likes that game, because he knows it makes Wooyoung uncomfortable. “Let’s do something more active.”

“Truth or dare?” Yewon asks.

San’s stomach lurches at the mention of that game, because of how the last time he’d played it had ended. But the circumstances had been different, and the two girls being there as a barrier should help stop anything from getting out of hand. He shrugs again. Wooyoung gives a jerky nod, and San wonders whether he’s nervous about having to answer questions in front of Yewon, when he’s probably worried about impressing her. He wants to tell him that he’s got nothing to worry about, that clearly Yewon is very into him and would probably go home with him right now if he wanted.

San swallows a mouthful of vodka straight from the bottle, not bothering with mixer even though the strong taste of cheap vodka makes him wince.

“I’ll start,” Misoo says immediately. “I pick San.”

Big surprise there. “Truth.” He doesn’t want to risk her daring him to make out with her or anything.

Misoo looks at him appraisingly, and he can’t help but feel like he’s made the wrong decision. “How big is your dick?” she asks.

Wooyoung, who had been taking a sip of his drink, starts coughing violently. San stares at Misoo in shock, eyes wide. Okay, that was one question he had _not_ been expecting.

“I’ve heard it’s big,” Yewon pipes up.

“I’m not answering that,” San says, mostly out of principle.

“Then you have to drink.”

Even though they’d said the penalty drink was one shot – or the equivalent amount in wine – he swallows down several gulps of vodka, hoping the alcohol will hit him as soon as possible.

“I choose Wooyoung,” San says once his mouth has stopped burning.

He would be a shit best friend if he’d leave Wooyoung at the mercy of Yewon and Misoo, who apparently went a lot harder in this game than he had been expecting. He gives Wooyoung a reassuring nod, letting him know he’s gonna go easy on him, and Wooyoung smiles weakly at him. There’s something about this little moment of solidarity, a reminder that no matter how screwed up things have been recently, they’ll always be on the same team.

“Truth,” Wooyoung says.

San wracks his brain for a question that Wooyoung wouldn’t mind answering but that the girls wouldn’t deem boring. He only has a second to think, so he asks one of the classics that he’s pretty sure is a safe bet: “Have you ever been in love?”

Wooyoung will obviously say no, but that isn’t an unusual answer and it will probably make him seem more mysterious to Yewon, who looks interested.

There’s a long pause as Wooyoung hesitates, and San frowns in confusion. Then Wooyoung pours some of his drink into the cup and downs it, eyes locked with San’s. The surprising intensity of the eye contact makes San’s stomach feel heavy, his pulse fluttering beneath his skin with something like butterflies, except it feels more like bees repeatedly stinging him. He knows this is probably some kind of strategy on Wooyoung’s part to win over Yewon – maybe he’s trying to be extra mysterious – but him not answering the question makes San’s gut prickle with curiosity and something else. 

“Your turn to pick someone,” Misoo prompts when Wooyoung doesn’t say anything.

Wooyoung looks away from San. “Yewon, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she says smugly, putting down her bottle of wine as though she’s sure she won’t have to drink from it.

“Uh,” Wooyoung glances around the park, obviously lacking inspiration. “I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything good. What kind of dare do you wanna do?”

Yewon rolls her eyes. “It should be what you want me to do, silly. Like, you could dare me to give you a lap dance, for example.” Wooyoung looks like he’d rather eat dirt. “Or you could dare me to do something with Misoo.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

San knows guys who get off to the idea of two girls and this would probably be a dream come true for them, but Wooyoung has never struck him as the type. Or, at least, he’s never mentioned anything like that in the years that they’ve been friends.

So it seems like it’s more for Yewon and Misoo’s benefit when he says, “I dunno, I guess I dare you to kiss Misoo. If you want to,” he adds.

 _There’s no way they haven’t done this before,_ San thinks as they dramatically give each other a long peck on the lips, clearly playing it up and well-rehearsed. Not done it before in the sense of there being any romantic undertones, but rather like this is a party trick they’ve perfected for the benefit of their audience. San gives them props for their dedication.

They sit back down, and San doesn’t think they can tell that both him and Wooyoung are unimpressed. He busies himself with pouring a cup of vodka-coke and downs it all in one; he’s starting to feel relaxed and hazy, the alcohol making everything seem the slightest bit less terrible.

“San, I pick you,” Yewon says, even though technically it should be Misoo’s turn.

“Dare,” he says, because he’s learned his lesson from the last round.

Instead of asking a question, Yewon traces the neck of her wine bottle with one of her nails. “This isn’t the dare, I’m just curious.” She says, looking up. “You and Wooyoung, you’re very close, aren’t you?”

San’s feeling of uneasiness returns. “Yeah,” he says.

She hums. “How long have you known each other?”

Wooyoung looks as confused as San feels. “Nearly four years,” San says.

Misoo gives Yewon a significant look that San doesn’t know how to interpret. He can’t tell whether Yewon’s gaze is calculating or whether he’s projecting. He takes another sip of vodka directly from the bottle, letting the gross flavour ground him.

“Have you guys ever, you know… done dares like what we just did? Like, at parties?” Yewon asks.

San’s stomach feels like it’s made of metal. He’s tempted to down another drink but he’s worried that might be excessive. “Not really, we’re… I dunno. We don’t, um, do stuff like that.” _Unless you count the time I did a body shot off him, but he doesn’t remember that anyway_. He doesn’t look at Wooyoung, and Wooyoung seems to be equally determined to avoid eye contact.

“Hm. That’s interesting,” Yewon says. San nods slowly, not knowing what she wants him to say, not even really understanding why she’s asking about that right now. “Anyway, back to your dare,”

For a long, terrible moment, San thinks she might ask him to kiss Wooyoung.

“I dare you to kiss Misoo.”

He’s half relieved and half apprehensive. There’s no way he can avoid kissing Misoo if he doesn’t want there to be any bad blood, but he also doesn’t particularly wanna kiss her in the first place, let alone in front of Wooyoung when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t like her. He glances up at him, but Wooyoung is picking at the label of his whiskey bottle, still resolutely avoiding eye contact.

“Um, okay.” He says. He has no idea how to subtly check whether this is fine with Wooyoung, and the last thing he wants is for things to get weird between them again when they’d only just sorted out the awkwardness.

Misoo slaps Yewon’s shoulder, whispering something into her ear. They both giggle and Yewon holds up her hand, motioning for San to stay where he is. “Never mind, sorry.” She giggles some more. “Misoo said she doesn’t want the first time you guys kiss to be part of a game.”

Misoo gives an outraged squawk, smacking Yewon’s shoulder again. Her cheeks are red. San realises how relieved he is at the prospect of not having to kiss her right now; if he has any say in it, they won’t be having a first kiss together at all.

The girls whisper some more, and San exchanges an apprehensive look with Wooyoung. He fills his cup and gulps down a few more mouthfuls of vodka-coke. It’s starting to taste really fucking gross; he’d gotten the ratio of alcohol to mixer wrong, so the bitter cheap vodka flavour overpowers the sickly sweetness.

“Well, then.” Yewon says after a moment. “The dare is for you to play chicken. With Wooyoung, obviously.”

“What’s chicken?” San asks, although he has an unpleasant feeling that he already knows exactly what it is.

“It’s the game when you have to just do, uh, _stuff_ to each other until one of you freaks out and stops, making that person the chicken.” Yewon says. “Surely you know the game gay chicken.”

San does know it. He just really doesn’t want to play it, not with Wooyoung, not in front of these girls, not when he’s drunk and already having trouble keeping his eyes off the way Wooyoung’s thighs look in those jeans.

Wooyoung’s posture is tense, and San watches him gulp down some more of his drink. Everything inside San is chanting _this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea._

“Uh, I think I’ll just take a shot instead.” San says slowly, tongue heavy. He reaches for his bottle, but Misoo swipes it out of his reach.

“Come on, don’t be boring. Yewon and I kissed,” she says pointedly, like that had been something they’d done for San instead of by their own free will, “and things don’t have to go that far. Just see what happens. You can chicken out as soon as he touches you, if you want.”

God, San is so fucking drunk. The alcohol he’s been knocking back desperately is finally hitting him, just in time to help him follow through with one of the biggest mistakes he could possibly make. The park is large and empty, wide everywhere around him, but he still feels claustrophobic under Misoo’s expectant glare.

On the one hand, San wants to play the game because of his own twisted curiosity; he wants to see how Wooyoung would touch him, how far they’d go before someone chickens out. Wants to see if he can get Wooyoung to look at him the way he had that time they’d done the body shot. But he knows this is a fucking terrible idea. _It’ll make things weird again,_ he thinks. _It’s not worth it._

“Why this dare?” he settles on asking. “Tell me honestly, and I’ll do it. If Wooyoung agrees.” He wants to look at Wooyoung to check whether they’re on the same page but can’t quite make himself do that right now.

Yewon shrugs. “Firstly, I’m curious to see how close you guys really are. Secondly, you’re both hot and we think it would be sexy to see you mess around. Thirdly, I’ve seen lots of guys play this game and I find it interesting to know who backs out when.”

That’s an honest answer, San can’t fault her there. He turns to face Wooyoung, finds him staring at San with an expression that probably looks neutral to the girls, but San knows is his deer-in-headlights face. “Up to you,” he says, not wanting to put Wooyoung on the spot but also not knowing what else to say.

“I mean, okay, I guess.” Wooyoung replies.

Misoo claps her hands in delight. “Well, you already know the rules. Do gay shit and whoever backs out first loses.”

This whole thing is so wrong. A mistake. San already knows he’s going to regret this, can anticipate his future self yelling at him to stop now, before it’s too late, before this becomes another thing that will haunt his dreams. He doesn’t want the desire he’s been suffering privately with for years to be put on display for the entertainment of two straight girls. But he genuinely can’t think of a valid excuse to back out now that Wooyoung’s agreed to do it.

San takes his bottle back from Misoo, pours the remaining vodka directly into his mouth and forces himself to swallow, then washes the taste in his mouth out with a gulp of coke. He turns to face Wooyoung, shuffling over so that they’re kneeling face to face.

It’s weird. Everything is weird and wrong. This feels worse than the time they’d had to do a body shot. 

When neither of them move, Yewon clicks her tongue impatiently. “San, you start,” she says.

San swallows. He’s touched Wooyoung thousands of times – hands around his shoulder or pinching his cheeks or leaning into his side – but that had all felt natural, had been easier than breathing. This is the opposite, and his hand feels heavy as he puts it on Wooyoung’s knee, the classic starting move he’s seen others use in similar games. A safe bet.

Wooyoung tenses as soon as San touches him. _This is wrong,_ San thinks. _We shouldn’t be doing this._

Neither of them move for long moment, then Wooyoung seems to steel his resolve, eyes determined. His competitive face. He leans in slowly, deliberately, face-to-face with San so that their noses are practically touching and placing a hand on his thigh. It’s a bold first move. Their eyes are locked and San can barely hear the loud squeals of the girls, all of his senses zoned in on Wooyoung in front of him.

San’s heart is beating hard in his chest; he realises he’s holding his breath. When it becomes obvious that he isn’t going to back out, Wooyoung moves back, sitting down on his knees again. San’s turn.

Something has ignited in San’s blood, a combination of the alcohol and the general effect Wooyoung has on him. He wants to prove he can hold his own in the game, that he isn’t about to be outdone, needs to show he isn’t a fucking chicken. He wants so bad to push Wooyoung into the grass and press their bodies together until he makes the sounds he made in the bathroom that night. Wants it real fucking bad, everything he’s been trying to repress since then spilling through his veins.

Instead, he leans forward and puts both of his hands on Wooyoung’s waist. Keeping his eyes locked with Wooyoung’s, he slowly slips them under the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing along the smooth, hot skin. He can feel Wooyoung inhale sharply.

San’s expecting Wooyoung to shove him off and for the game to be over, but instead Wooyoung’s eyes flutter shut for a second before he opens them again, darker and more unfocused.

Okay, what the fuck.

Wooyoung doesn’t wait for San to sit back before making his next move, tangling his hands in San’s hair and tugging his head to one side, exposing his neck. The air between the is electric; the girls seem a world away and San’s mind can’t register anything except Wooyoung. The universe could be imploding around them and he wouldn’t notice a damn thing.

Wooyoung’s fingers tighten in his hair, almost painful. He leans in and grazes his lips on San’s cheek. Once, briefly. San’s breath is caught in his throat; he can’t think, can’t speak, even blinking feels like an effort. His hands are still on Wooyoung’s waist under his shirt.

Distantly realising that it’s his turn, San moves his hands up Wooyoung’s back, along his sides, low enough that he brushes against the waistband of his jeans. He wishes he could memorise the feeling of Wooyoung’s skin against his fingertips, the lines of his muscles. His fingers dig into the dimples on Wooyoung’s lower back that have been driving him insane for months. He can feel Wooyoung’s rapid heartbeat against his palms.

Wooyoung’s hands drop from his hair and land weakly on San’s shoulders. His eyes are hooded and his tongue runs along his bottom lip, mouth parted slightly.

This doesn’t feel like a game anymore. San doesn’t know why the fuck neither of them are stopping, but it sure as hell isn’t for the benefit of their audience.

Even though his turn should be over, San can’t stop himself from tilting his head forward and dropping a kiss against Wooyoung’s exposed collarbone, as inevitable as ocean waves crashing against a beach. Half is mind is screaming at him _stop before it’s too late and everyone realises what’s really going on, stop before you do something you can’t take back,_ but the other half is just a repeated chant of _more, more, more. Touch me harder, show me how you want to be touched. Tell me you want this as much as me._

Wooyoung’s chest brushes against his. Both of them are breathing heavily. San wants to kiss him so fucking bad, and the worst thing is that, with the way Wooyoung looks right now, dark eyed and lips parted, it almost seems like something within the realm of possibility. Like San could just lean in and press their mouths together and the world wouldn’t end as a result. San’s whole body is wound tight, nerves like livewires. A shudder runs down his back when Wooyoung’s fingers slip against the skin next to the collar of his sweater.

Wooyoung still won’t chicken out. He moves forward a little, breath hot against San’s neck, and _holy fuck,_ San thinks he might be losing his mind. Wooyoung’s lips touch his neck right as a bright light goes off, startling both of them and making them jump apart instantly.

San blinks for a second, disoriented, the park once again engulfed in darkness. He quickly realises that the brightness had come from Misoo’s phone camera, who’s looking at them very guilty expression.

“You dumb bitch, the flash was on!” Yewon says, grabbing the phone from her.

“It was set to automatic. I forgot about the flash for when it’s dark outside.” Misoo snaps.

San looks from her to Yewon, still struggling to adapt to a reality where his hands are no longer on Wooyoung’s bare skin. “You took a photo of us?” he asks slowly.

Misoo looks even guiltier. “I wasn’t going to post it anywhere!” she defends herself. “It’s weirder that you guys were getting so into the game, like, it was super-duper gay,” she adds when nobody says anything.

“Delete the picture,” San says very calmly.

Misoo unlocks her phone with a pout. “It wasn’t a good one anyway, because you guys moved when I took it.” She shows him a blurry photo. She’s right; you can barely see who the people in the picture are, just two boys holding each other in a way that screams anything but platonic. San’s blood still boils. He watches her delete it, then makes her go to the ‘recently deleted’ iCloud folder and delete it from there too.

San can’t look at Wooyoung. He really doesn’t understand what the hell just happened. There’s no way he’d imagined the look in Wooyoung’s eyes as San had touched him, as though he’d been under the same trance that San had felt. Like he would have been willing to take things further if they hadn’t been interrupted. He wants Wooyoung so fucking badly, but he’s being shoved back into the reality of them being on dates with two girls that Wooyoung had asked him to set them up with. San wishes he could leave and have some time to collect his thoughts away from Yewon’s shrewd gaze.

“That was fun,” Misoo says, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “but I think we should go to the club now.” She hands San her wine. “Here, can you finish this for me? I can’t drink any more of it.”

San’s probably had too much to drink already but he downs it anyway, since there’s only a little left in the bottle. He’s starting to feel sick, not because of the alcohol but because of everything that had just happened, what he’d done.

How much longer can he survive this? Getting tiny tastes of the things he wants so desperately but will never be able to have?

Wooyoung reaches a hand down to help San stand, and he takes it, letting Wooyoung pull him up. At least they haven’t started fighting or ignoring each other again. Maybe it isn’t too late for their friendship to go back to normal.

Misoo immediately steps between them, taking San’s hand into her own. His skin crawls with irritation as she grins sunnily at him, like she didn’t just piss him the hell off and not apologise. “I can’t wait to show you how great this club is,” she says. “It’s seriously so cool.”

“Yay,” he says with no enthusiasm.

Apparently deciding to ignore his bad mood, she starts chatting as they head to the club. San doesn’t hear a word she says. His eyes are glued to Wooyoung as he walks with Yewon a little further ahead. He wishes he could catch his eye and try get a read of how he’s feeling. _What did we just do?,_ he wants to ask. _Are we good?_

But Wooyoung doesn’t look back at him a single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was.... a long chapter. are they finally getting closer to realising what dumbasses they are? stay tuned to find out ^__^
> 
> also remember how i said this would be 5-6 chapters long? well.... sike ..... lol... im thinking like 10ish chapters now but we'll have to see ;)
> 
> i havent been active on stan twt in a while but i decided to start using it again to keep yall updated about my writing plans and discuss any questions u might have, so [follow](https://twitter.com/woosanist) me (@woosanist) if u would like to chat about this fic or just woosan and kpop in general. i promise we'll have a gr8 time :p
> 
> finally, if u enjoyed the chapter pls pls leave a comment they rly make my whole entire day !!!


	6. drive me crazy

The queue for the club is already busy, despite the fact that it’s still relatively early. Wooyoung wraps his arms around himself, starting to feel a little chilly in the night breeze. He really should have brought a jacket, but he also wasn’t exactly expecting to end up here, outside of one of the most glamorous clubs in town.

This whole night is going nothing like he’d expected.

He isn’t surprised that he hasn’t felt at all romantically or physically attracted to Yewon, nor that the overall experience of being on a double date with San (of all people) is _not great, wouldn’t recommend_. But he’d never expected to somehow end up in the grass with San; San’s hands up his shirt and on his skin and the kind of tension between them that almost allows Wooyoung to believe that San, at least in that moment, had wanted him too. Like all the things he’s been dreaming about aren’t as far-fetched as he’d always thought.

He feels restless, his entire body thrumming with an energy that makes him want to punch a wall or something. Maybe dancing in a club is exactly what he needs right now, and potentially a tequila shot.

“I know the manager here,” Yewon tells him, because of course she does. “With a bit of luck, we should be able to skip the queue.”

“That’s awesome,” he says, genuinely glad that they won’t have to stand outside in the cold for half an hour.

He can feel San’s presence behind him, and it makes him nervous. He has no idea how to process everything that happened in the park and doesn’t know how to look at San in a way that doesn’t scream _I want you so bad I think I’m losing my mind._

He’s barely paying attention as Yewon arranges for them to go inside without queuing and they enter the club. It’s so glamorous that Wooyoung feels completely out of place in his sweater and jeans; all the girls are wearing heels and short dresses, sequinned or velvet or satin, and the guys are mostly dressed in white shirts and suit pants. He wants to make a joke about it to San but can’t bring himself to look at him.

Yewon leads them to the bar, and the alcohol prices are so staggeringly expensive that Wooyoung can almost picture his wallet crying as he orders a single tequila shot. He downs it quickly, watching as Yewon finishes her martini that had cost so much Wooyoung had thought at first that the bartender must have made a mistake.

“Let’s dance!” Yewon shouts into Wooyoung’s ear over the music.

He nods, barely able to hear himself think with the thumping music surrounding him from all sides.

Yewon grabs his arm and pulls him towards the centre of the dancefloor. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that tequila shot; everything feels blurred and hazy and he sort of wants to ditch Yewon and go find San. But he can remember that the last time he’d been properly drunk he’d made some massive mistakes that should never, ever be repeated, so the only solution is avoiding him. He allows Yewon to drag him through the masses of people whose faces flash by too fast for him to properly see them.

Once Yewon finds a spot she seems to be happy with, she turns around and twists her arms around Wooyoung’s shoulders, and, barely a second later, presses her lips against his. He’s so surprised that he forgets to close his eyes, blinking as his tries to process what’s happening. Okay, so Yewon is kissing him. Her sharp nails dig into his back and she licks along his lower lip, wet and kinda unpleasant. He doesn’t know how to deescalate the situation, puts his hands on her waist to push her away gently, but she takes it as encouragement and starts more enthusiastically moving her lips against his so his hands end up awkwardly lingering there as he wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

 _‘I’m gay,’_ he wants to say, realising that if he did tell her that then it would be the first time he’d have said those words out loud. But he can’t, for several reasons. Firstly, she’d definitely not keep it to herself and everyone would probably know within the next day; if San found out something so important from someone other than Wooyoung, it would irreparably damage their friendship. And secondly, he’s the one who asked to be set up with her in the first place, so he’d just be making himself look like a massively indecisive and confused douchebag. Which he kind of is, but that’s beside the point.

Wooyoung’s eyes have drooped shut just because he’d felt weird having them open, and he wonders how long to wait before it’s socially acceptable to pull away. This isn’t the first time Wooyoung’s kissed a girl, and he genuinely doesn’t understand the hype. It’s not particularly fun or pleasurable, and he’s pretty much struggling not to count the seconds until it’s over. At least he’s drunk, because the alcohol has relaxed him enough that he’s able to lean into the kiss and give an honest shot at trying to enjoy it. But nope, he feels nothing. He might as well be kissing his own hand.

Yewon releases him a moment later, her hands still around Wooyoung’s shoulders but not looking at him. He turns his head and sees that Misoo and San are standing next to them.

San’s expression is unreadable as his gaze flits between Wooyoung and Yewon. The flashing lights emphasise the planes of his face, bright colours catching in his hair, and Wooyoung thinks he’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

Wooyoung’s hands are still on Yewon’s waist, and he sees San’s eyes follow the movement as he drops them to his sides and steps back. Yewon pouts and moves forward to cling tightly to Wooyoung’s arm.

“Why aren’t you off dancing?” she shouts at Misoo, barely audible over the music and crowd.

“San wanted to come find you guys,” Misoo shouts back. She turns around and grabs San’s arm, dragging him forward and turning so that her back is pressed against his chest. “Let’s dance,” she tells him, which Wooyoung only knows because he can read the words off her lips.

A moment later, Misoo lifts her arms around San’s neck behind her, leaning her head back against his shoulder and rotating her hips against him in a way that seems entirely inappropriate for a public setting. Wooyoung stares in horrified fascination as she drops to the floor and stands again, her ass dragging over San’s crotch, knowing he shouldn’t be watching but unable to tear his eyes away.

The restlessness he’s felt all evening intensifies tenfold, paired with a surge of jealousy so intense it feels like hot knives against his skin. His mind is muddled with alcohol and all he can think of is that he really fucking hates Misoo. Hates how every time he looks at her, he’s reminded of all his shortcomings: in class, he’s not a good enough student, never able to pick up new concepts fast enough. And now, here, her body is draped against San, touching him in ways Wooyoung will never be allowed to but wants more than breathing. The thumping bass of the music is so loud that the ground is vibrating beneath his feet.

Yewon has started dancing too, moving closer against Wooyoung but thankfully not kissing him again. Wooyoung glances down at her and tries to dance with her for all of two seconds before his eyes are drawn almost involuntarily back to Misoo, who’s still grinding against San in rhythm with the music. Wooyoung’s eyes dart up to San’s face, wishing he could look away but needing to see San’s expression. His stomach feels like it’s punched out of his gut.

San is staring directly at him.

The intensity of his gaze is dizzying, unwavering even as Misoo turns to lick a line along San’s neck, up to his ear. Wooyoung can feel his stare like a physical touch, his pulse hammering louder than the bass from the speakers. It shudders down his skin, all his nerves coiled tight and lit up like the flashing lights in the club. His body feels too hot, the crowd surrounding them fading into white noise. The only thing he can hear is his own heartbeat.

Wooyoung barely notices as Yewon leans up and starts kissing along his neck, eyes locked with San’s and breathing hard in a way that has nothing to do with Yewon’s mouth on his skin. He has no fucking clue what any of this means, the alcohol and San’s eyes on him making it impossible to think beyond the fact that _jesus fuck_ he wants San so bad it hurts.

A new song comes on, darker and more seductive. Wooyoung’s mouth is dry as he runs his tongue along his lower lip, still tasting traces of Yewon’s cherry flavoured lip-gloss. San’s eyes follow the movement, then flick back up to meet Wooyoung’s gaze, slow and deliberate. _Fuck. What the fuck._

Wooyoung’s about a second away from saying fuck everything and grabbing San, but Yewon shouts something in his ear about wanting another drink and starts pulling Wooyoung towards the bar, and he’s so dazed that he lets her. He can see Misoo and San follow them from the corner of his eye, San still watching him. His body feels too tight; he’s starting to sweat in the hot lights of the club and masses of people surrounding him.

Yewon orders something to drink, Wooyoung doesn’t hear what, doesn’t care. He’s struggling to understand what the hell just happened on the dance floor. Because San had definitely been looking at him with his _I-wanna-fuck-you_ face, the one Wooyoung’s only seen him make on occasion at girls that he’s later hooked up with. And the knowledge makes Wooyoung feel like his world is being tilted on its axis.

Yewon motions for Wooyoung to follow her, and they walk out into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. It’s slightly cooler here than inside, with dark purple lights illuminating the black walls of the hallway, the music so muffled that it’s barely audible. The club is very well-designed; it’s too bad Wooyoung doesn’t want to be here. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, trying to regain his sense of balance and stop the dizziness he feels to his bones. All he can see against the back of his eyelids is the image of San staring at him on the dancefloor.

Yewon starts trying to kiss him again, but he’s really over pretending he gives a shit and turns his head away.

“Um, okay?” she says, and she sounds so irritated that he cracks his eye open.

“I’m sorry,” he says, wishing his brain was working properly so that he’d be able to think of a valid excuse. “Please just… don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re the one who asked me out.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“You’ve really not been paying much attention to me the whole evening.” Yewon says, inspecting her nails with an annoyed expression.

He gives a shrug, over this conversation and over this whole fucking scam of a date. He knows it isn’t fair to Yewon, but it’s too late to do anything about that and it would be even less fair to pretend he’s interested in her when he absolutely isn’t.

Yewon steps back, arms crossed over her chest, and she looks like she’s about to say something, but they’re joined in the corridor by San and Misoo before she can. There’s a moment of silence as the four of them stare at each other, although San’s gaze is fixed on Wooyoung only.

“You know what, Wooyoung,” Yewon says, sudden and loud in the relatively subdued corridor. “I should have guessed things would go like this.”

Wooyoung panics for a moment, convinced that she’s talking about him being in love with San and that she’s about to expose him in front of all of them.

But she continues, “Misoo told me that you’re not a particularly bright student, that your ambitions are low, and you have no idea what you want. She told me everyone knows you’re nothing special. But I thought you were cute, so why not give it a shot? However, it seems like she was right. You’re clearly a fucking mess, and I’m leaving.”

Wooyoung blinks at her in shock. The words hurt a surprising amount, stabbing at his insides with things he’s already insecure about. He doesn’t know what to reply, throat dry and prickly, and just watches as she turns to walk through the door. _‘Everyone knows you’re nothing special’_ rings inside his head.

But San steps between Yewon and the door, blocking her path. “Don’t talk to him like that,” he says. His voice is calm, but his eyes are burning with anger.

Yewon looks taken aback. “I didn’t mean to offend _you_ , San. Misoo likes you very much, and so do I.”

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever meet with either of you again,” San says. It’s because Wooyoung knows him so well that he can tell how, even though he seems almost scarily composed, his hands are shaking with anger.

Misoo makes a dismayed sound, clutching his arm. “I didn’t even do anything!”

San moves firmly out of her grip. “You think I’d want to ever date someone who thinks – let alone says – those kinds of things about my best friend? I could tell you’re arrogant, but I was hoping you’d have some degree of self-awareness, which obviously isn’t the case. Please leave, and don’t contact me.”

Misoo looks flabbergasted. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then takes Yewon by the arm and the two of them walk out without saying another word. The corridor suddenly seems very quiet and empty.

_Everyone knows you’re nothing special._

Humiliation pricks at Wooyoung’s skin, burying itself in his bones. He’s embarrassed that Yewon had said that to him, that apparently everyone agreed with her, that San had seen the whole confrontation, and most of all that he hadn’t even been able to stand up for himself, instead cowering behind San like a fucking loser. And it’s even more humiliating that he can feel a lump in his throat, like he’s about to start fucking crying in front of San because some girl he doesn’t give a shit about had called him dumb and lazy.

“You shouldn’t have said that to them,” Wooyoung says. His voice is shaking a little, which adds to his intense feeling of shame at the whole situation. He pushes up off the wall, turning to face San.

“What?”

“All that stuff back there. There was no need for that.”

San raises an eyebrow, expression disbelieving. “I was supposed to just stand there and let her say all that shit to you? That’s what you wanted?”

Wooyoung crosses his arms, defensiveness joining the mix of negative emotions balled in his stomach. “It’s not about what I wanted. It wasn’t your place to jump in the conversation. _‘Don’t talk to him like that’,_ who the fuck do you think you are?”

He hadn’t meant for the words to come out so harshly, and regrets saying them when San flinches back.

“I’m your fucking best friend,” San snaps, “so excuse me if I’m not about to let some conceited rich girl with a superiority complex walk all over you in front of me!”

Wooyoung’s fists clench. “I can take care of myself.”

“Well, clearly you were doing a fantastic job with that.”

A jolt of hurt and anger shoots through Wooyoung. “Fuck you,” he says.

They stare at each other for a moment, thick tension in the air as neither of them budge. Wooyoung can’t remember the last time they properly fought; they have arguments on the daily, but both of them always know it’s not serious and they’ve always made up within a few hours at most. He’s never had San stare at him with genuine anger before, never felt this kind of rage towards him. He’s reminded of his earlier urge to punch a wall, which is so fucking caveman of him that he’d laugh at himself if he wasn’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you,” San says, exhaling a forced laugh. “You’re the reason we’re even on this date in the first place, and now you’re going to make it seem like I’m the fucking bad guy for trying to defend you?”

“You’re the reason we were on the date with _them_ ,” Wooyoung replies tightly. “I’d barely talked to either of them until you arranged this whole thing.”

San’s mouth falls open in an expression of absolute incredulity. “You think I knew she’s like that when I set you guys up?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? You seemed awfully cosy with Misoo, maybe this whole double date thing was some ploy for you to get with her.”

God, now he sounds like a jealous, pathetic asshole. Wooyoung has no idea where all this is coming from, the alcohol loosening his control over his words and the humiliation still so fresh that he needs to lash out as a way to regain control over the situation. _Everyone knows you’re nothing special._ San probably knows it too. Wooyoung has no idea why San puts up with him, no idea how they’re friends when San is the one everyone wants to be around and Wooyoung is the one who’s just drifting through life with no aspirations and mediocre potential.

“I literally just dumped her in front of you, what the hell is wrong with you?” San says, disbelief outweighing the anger in his voice.

“Yeah, making her the, what, fifteenth girl you’ve dumped in the past year? Twentieth?” Wooyoung knows he’s being unnecessarily cruel, the words being dragged up from the dark parts of him that he’s tried to repress, the feelings he’s tried to ignore of how much he’d always hated knowing San was screwing other people, how the thought alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. San just stares at him, jaw clenched, so he continues, “Look, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to go on a nice date with a nice girl.”

“I was trying to make that happen,” San says slowly, and Wooyoung can see his hands are shaking again. Except this time, he’s angry with Wooyoung.

“And I appreciate your effort,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth, “but it didn’t work out and now I wanna leave.”

Something in San seems to snap. “Fuck you, Wooyoung,” he says. “If you want to leave, then go. Because everything, _everything,_ is always what _you_ want. And I’m so goddamn tired of it.”

“You have no fucking clue what I want,” Wooyoung says, voice barely above a whisper.

San’s eyes dart over his face, and for a moment the tension transforms into something else, the same as what Wooyoung had felt between them on the dancefloor. He wants to grab San, shove him against the wall and be shoved back, push against each other until their bodies meld together and space ceases to exist. Wants so badly that he might die from the intensity of it.

Then San is stepping back, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t think even you know what you want,” he says coldly. “Let me know when you figure out which nice, perfect girl you choose for yourself, and then maybe you’ll stop trying to blame me for the fact that you’ve not liked anybody you’ve ever gone out with.”

God, how ironic is it that it’s entirely San’s fault that Wooyoung’s never liked anyone he’s tried to go out with. But at least he doesn’t realise that, at least Wooyoung’s secret is still safe.

“Okay, I will,” Wooyoung retorts. “And maybe then you’re finally not gonna be up my ass because I don’t want to go on dates.”

San blinks. “Up your- when have I ever given you shit for not going on dates?”

Wooyoung gives a disbelieving laugh. “All the time? _‘Wooyoung, do you think she’s pretty?’, ‘Wooyoung, who do you have a crush on?’, ‘Wooyoung, you always just call girls nice, surely there’s someone you’re interested in?’_. You ask me bullshit like that every single day.”

“Because you don’t fucking talk to me!” San says, and now his voice is getting louder, echoing in the empty corridor. “We’re supposed to be best friends, but you never tell me anything.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you,” he replies, matching San’s volume.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t even tell me the truth about what happened at the party!”

They both freeze. Fuck. Wooyoung had not planned on saying that, it had slipped out in the haze of anger and alcohol.

“You… you remember that?” San asks, all anger gone from his voice. He’s staring at Wooyoung in shock. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck._

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says. He feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “I do.”

San’s face has gone pale in the purple light. “Why did you lie to me?”

Wooyoung swallows. His heart is beating so fast it’s making him lightheaded. “I… I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“I was embarrassed,” he whispers.

San takes a step towards him. Wooyoung flinches back unintentionally, his insides squirming with fresh waves of humiliation at the memory of what had happened that night. San doesn’t try to move closer, holding up his hands like he’s trying to stop Wooyoung from running away like a startled animal.

“I was really drunk, can we please just forget about it?” Wooyoung says. His lips have gone numb, and he’s basically screaming at himself inside his head for bringing it up in the first place.

San pauses for a long moment. Wooyoung can’t breathe, feels like his heart is going to bruise his ribcage from how hard it’s beating. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let’s forget about it.”

Wooyoung was expecting to feel at least a little relieved, but instead he just feels empty and miserable. It’s almost entirely thanks to the alcohol that he’s able to stop himself from curling up into a ball of humiliation on the floor.

 _It’s too much._ This is all too much for him. He’s finally reached his breaking point, everything from the past few days piling up and making him feel like he’s drowning.

“Is it okay if, um, we don’t talk for a couple of days?” Wooyoung says, barely able to get the words out. “I think if we… take some time apart, it might help to, uh, recalibrate.”

San’s expression shutters like a curtain being closed over a window. His face goes from shocked to completely emotionless, and Wooyoung is once again reminded of how well he can disguise his true feelings when he wants to.

“If that’s what you feel is best,” he says, voice calm in the way he tends to sound when he’s either extremely hurt or angry.

Wooyoung manages to nod. Every fibre in his being is screaming _‘what the fuck are you doing’_ , but he can’t even look at San right now without feeling like he’s being punched in the gut, and the prospect of having to go back to pretending everything is fine and that they’re two platonic best bros is such a momentous task and he can’t. He just can’t.

“Do you have your phone to call yourself an Uber?” San asks stiffly. 

Wooyoung nods again. San’s still looking out for him after he’d basically friend-dumped him, and it breaks his heart.

“Okay, I’m gonna go then. Take care on your way home,” San says, completely emotionless, and walks through the door without looking back.

Wooyoung stares after him for a moment, then lets himself slide down the wall to the floor, dropping his head into his arms and pulling his knees up against his chest. Well, one thing was for sure.

The date had been a fucking disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative title for this chapter: the one with a lot of eye-fucking.
> 
> i know wooyoung is being a dummy, but don’t be too hard on him hes just an embarrassed babie who doesn’t know how to cope with Feelings
> 
> also !! ive been considering upping the rating of this fic to E depending on how explicit u guys want the smexy stuff in later chapters to be – thoughts? if there’s enough demand for it then i’ll do that, so please let me know either in the comments or if ur shy then feel free to leave an anon message on my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists). also pls don’t hesitate to ask other questions too because i thrive on attention and love to discuss basically anything. and follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/woosanist) for any updates about my writing!
> 
> & as always big love to everyone who leaves me comments/messages about enjoying the fic, u guys motivate me sooo much to write <3


	7. somewhat damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright bros, i’m officially upping the rating to E so read on at your own discretion, you have been warned (but i’ll def include additional warnings at the beginning of a chapter if there’s anything very nsfw).
> 
> note for this chapter: trigger warning for some mild homophobia + locker room talk; nothing serious, more like shitty-fratboys-are-shitty.

San gives a pained groan as bright sunlight invades the cave of darkness he’s created for himself in his room. He tugs his blanket over his head, trying to avoid the light as his head throbs painfully.

“Okay, enough is enough,” a loud voice declares, and San groans again because his head really fucking _hurts_ and the noise isn’t exactly helping.

“Go away,” he says from under the blanket.

“No. I’m staging an intervention.”

A second later, the blanket is being torn out of San’s hands and he’s left cold and exposed as Mingi drags the whole thing away and puts it on San’s desk. San shoves one of the pillows over his head, but a second later that’s gone too.

“Can you fuck off?” he says in Mingi’s general direction, hands over his eyes in a last, desperate attempt to shield himself from the brightness in his room.

“I literally just said I’m staging an intervention, so no.”

Mingi tosses a pair of jeans and a shirt out of San’s closet in his general direction. The clothes land on San’s leg, but he makes no move to take them. The shirt is one of Wooyoung’s. It makes his heart give an agonising _thud_ in his chest.

“Okay, so.” Mingi says, sitting down at the desk chair and facing San’s bed. “We need to talk about some stuff.” 

San doesn’t want to talk about _stuff_. He wants to be left alone and not have to deal with this ‘intervention’ or whatever the fuck Mingi had called it, especially when he’s very hungover and got about three hours of sleep judging by the clock on his bedside table.

“No, we don’t,” he says. 

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Yes, we do. You’re obviously not doing well and Hongjoong has been insisting that we need to have a conversation about unhealthy coping mechanisms and shit. Basically, you need to stop partying and start going to class.”

“I haven’t been partying that much,” San says, but even he knows that’s not true.

And San isn’t in the habit of lying to himself, so he also knows Mingi’s right that he hasn’t been doing well.

Ever since the fateful night two weeks ago where he’d managed to pretty much screw up everything between him and Wooyoung, it had been an uphill struggle to get himself back into a normal routine, so he had eventually just given up on that and thrown himself into the college party scene with a vengeance. Thinking back to the past few days, he’s actually pretty sure he’s been drunk every single night and woken up after noon, then stayed in bed miserably for a few hours before repeating the whole process with the next party. Okay, so he probably shouldn’t have skipped class, but he feels like he’s been walking through life underwater, every movement slower and taking more effort than it should. Like everything that he should be caring about is far away and too tiring to be concerned with.

“You’ve been partying _way_ too much and we’re worried about you,” Mingi says. “We all know something happened with you and Wooyoung, but you refuse tell us what so we don’t know how we can help.”

The bright sunlight from the window is making it hard to keep his eyes open. San’s so fucking tired, not just because he’s barely slept, but the kind of all-consuming lethargy that leaves him unable to do anything except lie in bed. Anything except getting blackout drunk at a party, where he can stop thinking about everything for a little while. Where he can stop tormenting himself for not saying things differently that night, for being so obvious about how he felt. Where he might be able to forget the way Wooyoung had kissed Yewon on the dance floor, despite everything that had happened just before; forget the look on Wooyoung’s face when he’d said he needs some time away from San.

When he doesn’t reply, Mingi continues, “If you don’t start talking to us, we’ll have no choice but to ask Wooyoung himself about whatever the fuck happened between you guys.”

“Don’t,” San says sharply. The last thing he needs is his friends playing matchmaker or confronting Wooyoung on his behalf when everything’s already this screwed up.

He’d been miserable after the fight, of course. That had been the first time he and Wooyoung had ever argued properly, and he felt like shit about the way he’d handled the whole thing, although he knew, rationally, that it hadn’t all been his fault. But he’d thought – really, genuinely thought – that Wooyoung had just lashed out in the moment and that within a few days they’d be talking again. Maybe Wooyoung would need to clarify to San that they’re just platonic friends and that nothing more would ever happen between them, which would hurt, but San would get over it, because the most important thing to him is that Wooyoung is in his life.

But Wooyoung hadn’t come to talk to him. Or even texted.

San hadn’t wanted to reach out first, had known he needed to give Wooyoung space. But it had been hard when every time he’d gotten a phone notification, his heart had started pounding before he’d checked and seen that it wasn’t a text from Wooyoung.

A few days had passed, and it had become increasingly difficult to pretend there wasn’t a glaring, Wooyoung-sized hole in his life that he didn’t know how to fill. He liked seeing his other friends, but all of them were busy and lived in different areas of campus, so it wasn’t easy to organise hangouts more than a few times a week. Suddenly, he was alone in his room way more often than he wanted to be. The knowledge that Wooyoung lived so close by only made everything even worse.

And then, one day after classes, he’d been walking down the corridor to his room when a door had opened. He’d immediately known who was exiting their room and he’d felt like his heart had stopped, like he was suddenly sweating and hot and cold at the same time.

Wooyoung had turned around and their eyes had met for a second. San wishes retrospectively that he’d said something, anything; that he’d made any attempt to salvage whatever bond remained between them. But instead he’d been frozen, unable to get a word out.

Wooyoung had stared back at him for a few seconds, before he’d looked away and started walking down the corridor, in the opposite direction from San.

And, just like that, San had learned how bad it hurt to lose your best friend.

His best friend and his only love, gone with one disastrous blow.

Then things had started going downhill. He’d skipped a full week of class in favour of getting wasted at various parties, knowing he was making a mistake but unable to get himself to do anything else. _I’ll go to class tomorrow,_ he’d told himself. _This is just temporary, until everything stops feeling so shitty all the time._

Maybe Hongjoong was onto something when he’d brought up unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“Why can’t you talk to Wooyoung?” Mingi says, breaking San out of his thoughts. “I’m sure you guys will figure out whatever it is that you’re fighting about.” 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” San replies tiredly. His voice is a little hoarse from shouting so much yesterday at the party he’d gone to. “If I don’t give him space it’ll make everything worse. And I don’t think he wants for us to be friends anymore.”

“Can you please just tell me what you guys fought about?” Mingi’s expression is sad, and San wonders how pitiful he must look right now for even Mingi to be this concerned about him.

He shakes his head. A painful lump has lodged itself in his throat. He doesn’t want to think about that night, all the emotions so complex and tangled that he can’t begin to examine them, let alone explain to someone else. He imagines locking them tightly in a box, pushing the memories to the back of the mind.

“San, seriously. At least promise me you’ll start going to class again. It’s not a good idea to throw away everything you’ve been working for because of some temporary pain.”

“Fine. But only if you give me my blanket and pillows back,” he says.

“I’ll give you your pillows,” Mingi says, handing them over. “You can have the blanket if you tell me what the fuck Wooyoung said that messed you up so bad.”

“In that case, you can keep it,” San says, lying back down on his bed, blanketless and done with the conversation.

* * *

Wooyoung blinks at his lecture notes, realising that he’d been zoned out for the last fifteen minutes and hadn’t registered a word the lecturer had said. He’s been doing that a lot, recently.

He’s also been having trouble sleeping, which might be one of the reasons why he’s had so much difficulty focusing on class, or even just on regular conversations with Yeosang and Jongho.

The cause of all this is pretty obvious; when he’d been friends with San, he’d been able to sleep just fine, whereas now that they weren’t talking anymore, he’d toss and turn in bed for hours and hours. He’s completely aware, and yet he can’t bring himself to do anything about it.

Yeosang has told him more times than he can count that he needs to talk to San, but Wooyoung’s a fucking coward and can’t bear the idea of looking San in the eye after everything that happened between them. He just needs some time to heal from the embarrassment, and, by the looks of things, San’s been doing just fine without him anyway.

A few conversations with other people and a little social media stalking have painted the picture that San’s clearly been having the time of his life, going to parties practically every night. It isn’t like Wooyoung wants him to be miserable without their friendship the way he is, but he also hadn’t expected San to replace him quite so fast as his best friend in favour of his new drinking buddies.

That’s another reason why he can’t bring himself to talk to San; part of him is scared that San has realised how much better his life is when he’s free of Wooyoung.

Their whole fight had been Wooyoung’s fault, though, so it’s only fair that he should feel like shit while San can do whatever the hell he wants to. And, until Wooyoung’s able to figure out how to apologise for this whole mess, he’ll have deal with the fact that he’s evidently always been more dependent on San than the other way around.

 _Fuck_ , he’d zoned out again. The lecturer is wrapping up the final slide, and Wooyoung barely has three lines of notes on the paper in front of him. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and part of him irrationally hopes that the text is from San, even though there’s not a chance in hell of that being the case.

 **yeosang (1.58pm)**  
heyyyy ok so don’t say no but  
theres a party we’ve been invited to tonight  
at yeonjun’s girlfriend’s place  
and i think we should go

Wooyoung frowns at his phone. He hasn’t touched alcohol since the last, disastrous time he’d been clubbing, and the prospect isn’t particularly tempting. But he’s also so fucking sick of watching the Instagram stories of everyone he knows, and many people he doesn’t know, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of San at one of the parties going on.

 **wooyoung @ yeosang (1.59pm)**  
u kno what…. fine lets go

 **yeosang (1.59pm)**  
omfg??? rly???? yayyyy

Wooyoung slips his phone back into his pocket and starts packing up his belongings with a sigh. Maybe going to a party will help him get his mind off San, for a little bit.

* * *

San downs his third (fourth?) shot of tequila, the burning in his mouth and throat almost refreshing in some fucked up way. Tequila has never been his drink of choice, but someone had offered him the half-empty bottle and who would wanna turn down free alcohol?

Although he’d promised his friends that he would drink less, tonight’s a Friday and the only alternative plans he has is watching a movie alone in his room and pretending he’s not utterly miserable without Wooyoung there. So obviously he’d come to the party, even if it is being hosted by the flatmate of a girl he’d used to hook up with a year or so ago. He hasn’t seen her here, though, so that’s not been an issue so far.

He leans back against the kitchen counter, resting his head on the cupboard behind him. The air in here is slightly cooler than the suffocating warmth in the living room, and also smells less like cigarettes. The door opens and he sees a tall, beefy frat boy he doesn’t recognise step into the room.

“What’s up,” San says, because the guy is staring at him weirdly.

“Hey,” the guy replies. “I’m just looking for a beer.”

San nods his head towards the cooler in the corner of the room, still full of cheap beverages. He debates getting one for himself, but he thinks maybe the shots were enough for tonight.

“Hold on, I remember where I know you from,” the guy turns around and stares at San, and San can tell by his wide pupils and the flush to his skin that he’s definitely on something other than alcohol. “You’re friends with Wooyoung, you guys did a body shot together that one time.”

God, San doesn’t want to be reminded of that right now. He gives a noncommittal shrug, ignoring the way his stomach feels like it’s been hollowed out simply from the mention of Wooyoung’s name.

“I have class with Wooyoung,” the guy continues, even though San didn’t ask and really doesn’t give a fuck. The whole reason he’d come out was so that he’d spend _less_ time thinking about Wooyoung.

“That’s great,” he says, wondering whether it would be rude if he just left in the middle of the conversation.

The guy cracks open the beer can and swallows a few mouthfuls, some of it flowing over the rim and down his chin. San almost wants to warn him to stop drinking, because drugs and alcohol are rarely a smart combination, but he doubts he’d listen to him even if San said anything.

“Dude,” the guy says, wiping his chin on his sleeve. “You know, like, your one pick? Wooyoung would be mine for sure. He’s got that perfect balance between sexy and cute; it’s so fucking good.”

San knows he shouldn’t ask, wants to make up an excuse to leave the room as soon as possible, but something is stopping him. Almost involuntarily, he says, “What the hell is a ‘one pick’?”

The guy gulps another few mouthfuls of beer from the can. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he holds the can against it, as though trying to cool himself. Some of the liquid spills out of the top, dripping down his hoodie.

“Like, the one guy you’d fuck even if you’re straight. I’m totally, one-hundred percent heterosexual but I would fuck him so hard. He’s just got that face, yeah?”

San stares at the guy, anger and disgust churning in his stomach. He feels sick; his chest is tight, breathing suddenly seems a lot more difficult. But he’s always been good at disguising his anger with a calm voice and neutral expression, so he just says, “That doesn’t sound one-hundred percent heterosexual to me.”

The guy snorts, swaying and falling against the counter. More evidence of how wasted he is, as though everything about him didn’t already make it obvious. “What, just ‘cause I wanna fuck him means I’m not straight? I like pussy, bro. Also, screwing and being in a relationship aren’t the same. Like yeah, I’d tap that, _hard_ , but I’d also not wanna date a dude.”

San fucking hates him. Despises a guy whose name he doesn’t even know. He’s gripping the counter so tightly that his hands are numb. He needs to get the fuck out of here before he does something idiotic, like giving in to the urge to beat this asshole to a pulp. He’s never wanted to break someone’s nose so badly before.

“Okay, thanks for sharing,” he says, practically vibrating with anger.

“What, are you getting pissy because he’s your friend?” the guy says. More beer sloshes out of the can as he slams it down on the counter. “I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, bro. I was just saying. Don’t pretend you’ve never noticed he’s got blowjob lips.”

That’s it. San is going to fucking _murder_ him.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” The words come out every bit as hostile as he means them. Almost without realising it, San takes a warning step closer to the guy, his entire body tense like a coiled spring. 

“Jesus, what are you being so aggressive for?” the frat boy says, laughing like San isn’t two seconds away from punching his nose through his skull. “I’m not actually gonna do anything, I’m not down with that homo shit.”

San sees red. He shoves the guy backwards, slamming him against the counter. The can tips over and beer spills down the wood and onto the floor. 

“If you even fucking _look_ at him, I’ll kill you,” San snarls, shoving the guy again. Everything reeks of sweat and beer.

“What the fuck is your problem, bro?” The frat boy spits, grabbing San’s collar and knocking him back. He draws back his hand and, before San has time to react, lands a hard punch against San’s face.

Sharp pain shoots through his head, but the anger and adrenaline are so strong that he barely feels it. He slams his fist against the guy’s stomach, and the guy doubles over, coughing.

San steps back, breathing heavily and touching his lower lip where he can taste blood. He needs to get the fuck out of here. As much as he wants to fucking obliterate the dickhead frat boy, the guy is way taller and more buff and it’s common sense that San won’t be able to win against him in a fist fight.

But before he’s able to leave the room, the guy grabs him from behind by the neck and slams his face against the counter. San’s cheek smashes into the hard, sticky surface and his teeth knock and _fucking shit that really hurt_. He’s dizzy and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of the impact or the alcohol or the all-consuming rage. He elbows the guy hard in the chest and pushes himself off the beer-covered wooden surface as soon as the pressure on his neck decreases.

Spinning around, he lands a hard punch against the guy’s jaw, making him stumble back. San’s entire brain feels like it’s throbbing in pain.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Both San and the frat boy turn towards the source of the noise that had cut through the haze of anger and aggression. San immediately recognises Yeosang, Wooyoung’s friend. _What the hell is he doing at this party?_

Yeosang steps into the room. “Real classy, guys. If either of you make another move, I’m getting you kicked out of the party. Or calling the police.”

“He’s the one who fucking attacked me out of nowhere,” the frat boy says, gesturing at San with a livid expression.

“I don’t give a shit. You’re coming with me,” Yeosang says, grabbing San by the arm and tugging him towards the door.

“Wh-what?” San looks at him in confusion.

“Get a friend to come help you,” Yeosang tells the guy, ignoring San. “That bruised jaw looks like it’s gonna hurt badly if you don’t get some ice on it.”

A rush of spiteful pleasure fills San at the knowledge that at least he’d at least been able to inflict some damage on the asshole. He can’t believe he still doesn’t even know his fucking name. Not that he wants to.

When they’re out of the kitchen, Yeosang wordlessly leads him towards one of the bedrooms that has a large sign saying ‘Keep out’ on it.

“I, um, don’t think we’re supposed to go in there.” San says.

Yeosang rolls his eyes. “The sign’s for people who are looking for someplace to have sex. Don’t throw up inside and we should be fine.”

The room is a pretty standard girl’s bedroom, with a pink duvet and collage of polaroid pictures on one of the wall. San lets Yeosang sit him down in the desk chair, dazed. His cheek still feels like it’s throbbing.

“Okay, so.” Yeosang says. “Care to explain what the hell was going on back there?”

San doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol or the aftershocks of the fight or just the adrenaline leaving his body, but he doesn’t feel the need to shut down the conversation immediately. Besides, Yeosang is close friends with Wooyoung; if anyone would understand why San had reacted the way he did, it would be him.

“Um. That guy was making vile, disgusting comments about… about Wooyoung. Kept saying shit about how he wants to fuck him even though he’s straight. He wouldn’t shut up, so I shoved him, he decked me, and then you saw the rest,” he says. 

Yeosang watches him for a long moment, and San starts regretting having said anything, but then he leans down and pats San on the shoulder. “In that case, you did the right thing.”

San exhales a laugh. Even though he’s glad he was able to get a few punches in, the knowledge that the guy had been thinking those kind of things about Wooyoung, and would probably continue to do so, makes him want to go back right back into the kitchen to pick up where they’d left off.

“San,” Yeosang says suddenly. “Why did you never come talk to Wooyoung after you guys argued?”

San blinks at him, confused. “Wooyoung didn’t want to see me? He told me he needs some space to ‘recalibrate’ or some shit and then never talked to me again. Do you really think, if it were up to me, that we’d have stopped being friends?”

Yeosang’s eyebrows narrow, his expression thoughtful. “I see,” he says. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Before San can even reply, he’s left the room. _That was weird,_ San thinks, wondering whether he’s supposed to just sit here in the meantime, or what. He pulls out his phone and sees some new notifications from groupchat texts.

 **yunho**  
SAN ???? YO WHAT THE FUCKKKKK  
DID U RLY GET IN A FIGHT ROFLLL  
EVERYONES SAYING U BEAT ONE OF THE FRAT BOYS UP

 **hongjoong**  
san did WHAT?

 **mingi**  
LMFAOOOOOOO??????  
SAN PLS CONFIRM OR DENY???  
san  
San pls  
san bro im.literlalyl shakingn rn pls confirmOr deny

 **hongjoong**  
san…. i thought we had agreed on less partying  
and less ??? fighting ???  
since when is that something u do wtf

God, his head hurts. San’s just started typing out a reply when the door opens and he nearly drops his phone.

_Wooyoung._

“Yeosang, seriously, why the fuck am I supposed to go in-” Wooyoung’s voice cuts off as he sees San sitting on the desk chair.

Their eyes meet and San’s heart gives a slow, heavy _thud_ in his chest, before it starts beating triple-time. He opens his mouth to say something, he doesn’t know what, but then Wooyoung is stepping into the room with wide eyes, the door falling shut behind him.

“What happened to your face?” he asks.

San had nearly forgotten about the ache in his cheek and lip, his brain gone to mush at the sight of Wooyoung and unable to register anything except how much he’s missed him. “Got in a fight,” he says.

Wooyoung moves closer, hesitant and almost awkward. He’s wearing an oversized sweater and San can’t stop looking at him, his eyes drinking in Wooyoung’s features now that he’s finally able to see him in person instead of in photos or his own memories. Everything inside San is thrumming with energy. His heart aches with how much he _likes_ Wooyoung, and he needs to stop himself from doing anything weird, because this is exactly why Wooyoung had wanted to stop being friends with him in the first place.

“I’m gonna get you some ice,” Wooyoung says.

San nods. His throat feels tight.

Wooyoung leaves the room, and San stares at the door he left through. He’s struggling catch up with this turn of events, has no idea whether this means he and Wooyoung are friends again, or whether this is simply Wooyoung’s caring nature shining through.

San waits in the chair with his pulse hammering; it feels like forever before Wooyoung comes back into the room with a bag of frozen peas and disinfectant spray. San doesn’t know how long he’d really been gone for. Probably a few minutes. Now that he’s seen Wooyoung again, he doesn’t want to be away from him for a single second.

Wooyoung walks up to San and kneels down in front of the desk chair, so that their faces are level. Wooyoung’s cheeks are flushed, maybe because he’s been drinking. San can make out the individual flecks of colour in his eyes.

“Hold still,” Wooyoung says, and sprays some of the disinfectant on a tissue, the strong, chemical scent surrounding them. “I washed my hands,” he adds, as though San’s brain is capable of being worried about stuff like that right now.

Wooyoung dabs the cold tissue along San’s split lower lip. It kinda stings, but San’s so dizzy with their closeness and the sight of Wooyoung’s eyes on his lips that he barely notices.

“Does it hurt?” Wooyoung asks quietly.

San shakes his head, jostling Wooyoung’s hand slightly. Wooyoung sets the tissue aside, moving to inspect the damage on San’s cheek, from when his face had been slammed against the counter. He runs a finger along San’s skin to check the swelling. San can feel his gentle touches all the way to his toes.

“Here, ice will help,” Wooyoung says, taking the bag of frozen peas and handing it to San.

“Thanks,” San says dazedly.

He holds the bag against his face, and the cold really does help reduce some of the pulsing pain, numbing his face. Wooyoung’s still kneeling in front of him, eyes on San’s bleeding lip.

 _Maybe it would help if you kissed it better_ , he thinks, then immediately hates himself for being unable to simply appreciate Wooyoung’s help for what it is. A friendly gesture, and nothing more. He’s glad for the ice against his cheek, cool against his flushed skin.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, sudden and abrupt. San looks at him, surprised, but Wooyoung is staring at the floor.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry. For everything I said in the club. After… after the thing with Yewon.”

San blinks slowly, unable to believe that this is happening, after he’d almost given up hope that they’d ever be friends again.

“I’m sorry too-” he starts saying, but Wooyoung cuts him off.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I overreacted for no reason. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, lips numb from more than just the injury and ice.

Wooyoung finally looks up at him, and San feels his breath catch in his throat. There’s something in Wooyoung’s eyes that he can’t pinpoint.

“So you forgive me?” Wooyoung asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I forgive you.”

San feels lightheaded with how close they are, with how nice it is to know that he and Wooyoung are okay again, that he hadn’t screwed things up permanently, that the deep-seated loneliness of the past two weeks is coming to an end.

“Your lip is bleeding again,” Wooyoung murmurs. San had nearly forgotten about the stinging pain, so distant that it seems irrelevant.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he says.

Wooyoung is biting his own lip; San’s eyes are drawn involuntarily to the way his teeth leave indentations in the softness. Months and years of wishing he could test their texture himself – press his lips against Wooyoung’s and see whether they’re as soft as they look – crash through him like a tsunami.

Wooyoung’s gaze is still fixed on San’s split lip.

Then Wooyoung reaches forward and runs a finger along the non-wounded side of San’s lip. The touch feels like it’s connected to every nerve ending in San’s body.

Everything about this seems completely unreal, like something San must have dreamed up during those sleepless nights. Wooyoung’s gentle tracing sends shivers down his spine. San can’t breathe, completely still and unable to think beyond the pressure against his mouth.

Wooyoung’s finger slides forward a tiny amount, definitely unintentional, but San’s mouth had slipped open a little and suddenly Wooyoung’s touch is on the hotter, wetter inside of San’s lip, brushing against the tip of his tongue.

Their eyes meet, and the air feels knocked out of San’s lungs at the look on Wooyoung’s face; eyes dark, eyebrows pinched. The tension between them feels like something tangible, a blazing heat scorching San’s skin.

He doesn’t wonder whether he’s about to make a massive mistake, can’t think beyond anything except Wooyoung in front of him, Wooyoung’s eyes on him. Feels like he’s in a trance.

San lets his tongue brush against Wooyoung’s finger, eyes locked with Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung’s eyebrows pinch even more, almost like he’s in pain, and then his finger slides the slightest bit further into San’s mouth, wet and so incredibly hot.

San is certain that how much he wants Wooyoung must be written all over his face. He can’t believe he’s rock hard in his pants because of a fucking _finger in his mouth_ , but everything about this is too much and not enough.

Mind hazy with desire, he closes his lips over Wooyoung’s finger, feeling it fit perfectly into the o-shape, and Wooyoung’s face crumples with something akin to despair.

San can’t do this anymore, tiptoeing around each other and feeling like he’s always walking on eggshells because of his own feelings towards Wooyoung, always trying to make sure he doesn’t give too much away. _Fuck that._

He drops the frozen peas, the bag falling to the floor with a thud, and reaches forward towards Wooyoung, but Wooyoung is already leaning up and everything about this feels so utterly inevitable.

The bedroom door flies open with a loud bang.

Wooyoung startles away from him, and San’s heart drops as he automatically turns to face the door.

Yunho’s standing there with a sheepish expression, obviously having witnessed what he’d just interrupted. “Fuck. Sorry for intruding, like, genuinely, you have no idea how sorry I am, but San, I need to speak to you. Right now.”

“What is it?” San asks, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Yunho glances nervously at Wooyoung, who’s retreated to the other side of the room, then back to San, who clearly isn’t about to move from the chair. “Well. So, basically, the guy you got in a fight with?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He- he’s going around and telling everyone that you… that you’re gay.”

San’s stomach drops, an icy feeling filling him that’s far worse than the cold from the frozen peas earlier. “Why the fuck is he doing that? And what proof does he even have?”

Yunho’s expression becomes even more sheepish, eyes swimming with guilt. “Um. The reason is probably because you pissed him off and he’s an immature bastard. And… well. The proof he has is that he, uh, he somehow took Mingi’s phone when he was playing drinking games and you know how he doesn’t have a passcode, and he read some of our messages, _nothing about that_ ,” he says quickly when San’s eyes widen in panic, “just some joking stuff, and, well, now he’s telling everyone about it.

San’s eyes automatically dart to Wooyoung, who’s staring at him in shock. Yunho looks so incredibly remorseful that San can’t even be mad at him, he’s mostly just angry that he wasn’t able to punch the guy a third time.

“I guess it’s not like this wasn’t going to happen sooner or later,” he says, standing up. “Time to bite the bullet.”

As he walks towards the door, he wishes he could speak privately with Wooyoung first. But that’ll have to wait for a little bit, even though San’s delayed that conversation long enough. Hopefully Wooyoung will be understanding.

Hopefully this won’t mess things up again when it hasn’t even been an hour since they made up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek sorry for the wait, this chapter took me ages to write and i published a separate (completed) woosan fic in the meantime so check that out if u havent already xoxo
> 
> as always, thank u so much to everyone who leaves comments or messages about enjoying the fic, u guys make me wanna update as fast as possible and reading ur thoughts on the story makes me so happy !!
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/woosanist) or leave me something on my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) <3


	8. mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw warning for basically all of the second half of the chapter!!!

Wooyoung glances at his phone screen for the third time in the past ten minutes, as though maybe by staring at it hard enough he can telepathically force San to text him.

“He’s still not messaged you?” Yeosang asks, though he looks unconcerned.

Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to not be too glum. _He’ll text,_ he tells himself. _We’re fine, everything is fine._

And it is, to an extent. But it also isn’t.

After the asshole frat boy had told everybody at the party that San was gay based on a few texts between Yunho and Mingi, everything had pretty much gone to shit. San had been livid, of course, that something so personal would be exposed in such an inconsiderate and insensitive way, but had handled it with admirable bravery and had clarified to everyone that _yes, he liked boys,_ but that he was _bisexual, actually,_ and that _it really shouldn’t be anyone’s business except his own and the people he wanted to tell._

Wooyoung almost can’t believe how well he’d dealt with the situation. If it had been Wooyoung who’d been outed like that, he probably would have fled the party altogether and locked himself in his room for a week.

The people at the party had gotten over it quickly, merely taking it as some juicy gossip and not something that actually warranted changing their behaviour towards San over. Mingi and Yunho had apparently scared the frat boy so badly he’d pissed himself, or so the rumour went, but it was also quite possible that the rumour had been made up by Mingi and Yunho themselves. But, either way, the frat boy had left San alone since then and had even sent a text with a half-assed apology for his behaviour.

Seeing San’s expression when he’d read the message had made Wooyoung want to find the frat boy and dislocate his jaw, but San had insisted that it was fine and that he was over the whole thing, anyway.

And, of course, there had been the conversation where San had said to Wooyoung, “We need to talk,” and Wooyoung had replied, “Yeah, we do,” and they’d sat down in San’s room and San had explained that he was really sorry that he’d hidden his sexuality from Wooyoung but that he had never known how to approach the topic and that he hoped this wouldn’t change anything between them. The entire time, Wooyoung’s brain had been repeating a stream of _I get it, it’s okay, I completely understand, I did the same, I was scared and I’m still scared to tell you._ He’d wanted so badly to say something and explain that _actually, I like boys too,_ but his tongue had refused to cooperate and he’d just sat there nodding.

He didn’t want to make San’s coming out – something that was surely one of the hardest things he’d had to do – about himself. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was twisting this into something it wasn’t; make it seem like, just because they were both kinda into boys, he now had some kind of _expectation_ about how things would go between them.

So when San had asked, “So, this won’t change things between us?” he’d replied “Of course it won’t,” instead of saying _I’m in love with you and I want to know if there’s the tiniest chance that you’ve ever thought of me like that, whether you’ve ever imagined things between us taking that kind of turn._

And things hadn’t changed between them. Sort of.

San still hangs out with him constantly, they still laugh and tease and joke, and Wooyoung still feels the most like himself whenever he’s with San. But there’s this _feeling_ lingering over his head like a dark cloud. He doesn’t know whether it’s the fact that he can’t stop thinking about all the little moments that passed between them; the body shot, the park, the time he’d iced San’s bruised face, the thousands of other touches and lingering glances he’d never allowed himself to think too much into. And he can’t stop second-guessing himself, wondering whether there’s the slightest chance that he’s not alone in his non-platonic feelings.

But things are also different for other reasons. San has almost completely stopped touching him, always keeping his distance and never sharing a bed with Wooyoung or wearing his clothes. Wooyoung wonders whether San’s scared he’ll misinterpret any of those habits now that it’s out in the open that there’s the tiniest, slightest possibility San’s been attracted to him before. Maybe he thinks Wooyoung will make it into something it isn’t. Maybe San never was into him and wants to make that clear now that it suddenly seems like an option. Maybe the gestures always meant something more and San’s as scared as Wooyoung is.

Wooyoung is so fucking confused and everything sucks.

“I just-” Wooyoung starts, then cuts himself off.

“You just what?” Yeosang asks, looking up from the takeout food they’d ordered for dinner.

Wooyoung sighs. “I don’t know. I wish I could just tell him everything from my side. I’m really conflicted, and I hate it. I… I could have sworn we had, like, a _moment_ when I was helping with his injuries.”

“Ah, you mean that time he sucked your finger,” Yeosang says knowingly, nodding.

Wooyoung flushes. “He didn’t _suck my finger_. I’m not gonna tell you shit if this is how you treat sensitive, confidential information.”

Yeosang just laughs as he helps himself to more spring rolls. “I think you’re being dramatic. But I also know how hard it would be to, you know, confess to him when you’ve hidden your feelings for so long. But he’s definitely going to text you back about the party. From how it seems to me, it’s only a matter of time before one of you snaps and makes a move. I just don’t see why you guys always have to be drunk to make any progress.”

Wooyoung picks at his rice noodles, frowning. “Because alcohol lowers my inhibitions, I guess? But I’m not planning on drinking much tonight. I really need to start getting back in the spirit of doing uni work.”

Before Yeosang can reply, Wooyoung’s phone screen lights up as he gets a text. His heart immediately does a weird swoop in his chest as he sees that it’s from San. Maybe the telepathy had worked after all.

 **san (3.47pm)**  
sure, sounds fun :)  
ive got no deadlines coming up anyway  
so im def down for a party  
i havent been out since the Disaster Occasion

Wooyoung supposes it’s good that they’re able to joke about that night now, even though the memory of the dickhead frat boy still makes his blood boil.

Yeosang peeks not-so-sneakily at his phone screen, then sits back with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re obnoxious,” Wooyoung tells him, stealing one of the spring rolls off Yeosang’s plate.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Yeosang complains.

“You have ‘I-told-you-so’ written all over your face,” Wooyoung says.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Yeosang says, and he looks so smug that Wooyoung decides to ignore him for the rest of their meal.

* * *

The party is probably one of the more enjoyable ones Wooyoung has been at recently. It’s less of a wild college vibe, and more a group of friends and friends-of-friends sitting together to sip wine and gin tonics. He’s a little buzzed, just enough that everything feels nice and warm and comfortable.

He wishes he could lean into San’s shoulder, because San’s wearing a soft, oversized hoodie and it looks like something that would feel really nice against Wooyoung’s cheek. Before this whole ordeal he probably would have done it, or maybe San would have wrapped an arm around him by now. But San is still keeping his distance, as he’s done the past week.

Wooyoung gazes mournfully into his half-empty glass of wine. He wonders whether San can feel the weird vibe between them, too.

“Wooyoung,” San says suddenly, startling Wooyoung out of his thoughts. San stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head, as changing his mind about whatever he’d been about to say.

“Tell me,” Wooyoung says, wondering why San’s been acting so strangely the whole night.

“It’s nothing.”

“Why did you say my name, then?”

“Just drop it,” San snaps, and Wooyoung’s face falls at his tone. San’s gaze softens, a little regretful, then he gestures towards the other side of the room. “There’s a girl from one of my classes over there, come on, I’ll introduce you.”

He stands up and Wooyoung follows him, frowning in confusion. They walk across the room to a girl with blonde highlights in her hair, wearing a vintage band shirt. Wooyoung really fucking hopes this isn’t San trying to set him up with a girl again, because he doesn’t think he could stomach that right now.

“Oh, hey, San!” the girl says cheerfully, giving him a one-armed hug with a wine glass in her other hand.

“Hey, how are you doing?” San asks, and they start chatting about classes. Wooyoung wonders whether San’s completely forgotten about the fact that he’s awkwardly standing there, listening to them talk. The alcohol helps him feel a little less uncomfortable than he’d be if he were sober, but he’s still debating whether he should just leave them to their conversation and find someone else to talk to.

However, the girl catches sight of Wooyoung, eyebrows rising as her gaze flits across him in a way that’s evidently checking him out. The intense look makes Wooyoung a little uncomfortable, because, while he’s flattered, he’s very much not interested.

San’s face is expressionless as he glances between them.

“Who’s he?” the girl asks, taking a sip from her wine glass and staring at Wooyoung with interest.

“This is Wooyoung, he’s my best friend.” San turns to Wooyoung, leaning in far closer than he would while sober and grabbing Wooyoung by the shoulders. They’re basically the same height so it’s oddly jarring to suddenly be so close, noses almost touching. “You know that right?” San says seriously.

“Uh, yeah,” Wooyoung says. His tongue feels heavy, the words not quite slurred but not quite clear. The world has gone fuzzy around the edges, San’s face is the only thing in focus.

“My best friend. I love you so much, dude. Seriously. I love you, man. I love you.”

Wooyoung can feel his heart beating in his throat. His chest is tight, he doesn’t know whether he’s been staring too long but he can’t drag his eyes away from the way San is looking at him, like he means it. Like Wooyoung is someone incredibly precious to him.

“That’s, uh, really great.” The girl glances between them in obvious confusion.

“I love you too,” Wooyoung says, and the words feel like they’re dragged up from some deep part of his soul, like he’s listening to himself say them instead of speaking them himself.

“Good lord,” the girl says. “I’m gonna go, um, grab another drink.”

Wooyoung sees her walk away in his peripheral vision, but he’s still fixated on San, everything in his world narrowed down to the two of them. San’s gaze is heavy, weighted, like he’s trying to convey something with his eyes because the words won’t come to him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” San asks, taking Wooyoung off guard, but he nods because the party isn’t really _that_ good and he’d way rather just hang out with San.

They grab their jackets and say brief goodbyes to the people they know. San doesn’t go over to his blonde classmate that he’d been talking to earlier.

The night air outside is surprisingly warm and pleasant, but Wooyoung feels weirdly shivery inside because he has no idea what the hell just happened between him and San. He’s completely lost track of which looks he’s reading into too much, and which ones might actually mean something. It’s how he’s felt since he found out San’s bisexual; like his world has been shaken upside down, making him suddenly unsure of all the things he thought he knew.

“Did you think she’s pretty? My classmate, with the blonde hair?” San asks suddenly.

Wooyoung turns to stare at him. San’s behaviour today has been so fucking _bizarre_ and he has no idea what to make of it. “She was alright,” he says.

San doesn’t reply, silence settling between them. They walk into one of the nearby parks, vaguely resemblant in the darkness of the one they’d been in on their double date. Wooyoung briefly wonders whether he should suggest calling an Uber or something, because they’re pretty far away from their university accommodation.

The grass is a little damp; Wooyoung can see droplets of water catch on his shoes as they walk across the lawn. San keeps looking like he’s about to say something, but always stops right as he opens his mouth.

“Okay, what the hell is the matter?” Wooyoung asks, irritated, when the silence becomes unbearable. “Why do you keep looking like you’re trying to figure out how to tell me you’re moving to a different continent?”

San’s hands are stuffed in his pockets. “It’s nothing like that,” he says.

“Then just talk to me,” Wooyoung says, annoyance seeping into his tone.

The moonlight has washed out most of the colours in the park, and San’s face is pale in the darkness. It makes Wooyoung’s heart clench in his chest, how handsome he is.

“I… It’s not that simple.”

“It is if you just tell me. Do you think anything you say at this point is gonna make me stop being friends with you?”

“Maybe,” San says, looking away.

Now Wooyoung’s starting to get a little concerned. “What?”

“This is just…” San looks like he’s searching for the right words. “It’s not something I can tell you.”

“I’m your best friend, why do you think you can’t trust me with stuff?” Wooyoung feels anger rising inside him, all the weird emotions that have been swirling in his mind the past few days bubbling over like a boiling pot. “And you had the audacity to say _I_ don’t talk to _you_.”

San makes a frustrated noise. “I said that because you _don’t_ fucking talk to me. I have no idea what you’re thinking about most of the time. Sometimes it’s like I don’t even know you.”

Wooyoung stares at him, shocked and a little hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re a closed fucking book, Wooyoung,” San’s voice is rising, cutting through the dark silence in the park. “I keep trying to figure out what you want, but it’s impossible because you give me nothing to work with.”

“Why are you fucking attacking me right now? I have no idea what you’re even angry about.” Wooyoung’s voice is getting louder too, and this is quickly turning into the kind of argument they’ve barely ever had. Like that night at the club, after the disastrous double date.

Anger and frustration are thick in the air. Maybe Wooyoung had been wrong. Maybe everything isn’t as fine between them as it had seemed.

“Did you ever like any of the girls you went out with?” San’s voice is tense, the question coming seemingly out of nowhere. 

Wooyoung’s stomach drops, utterly confused by what San’s trying to get at. “What the fuck does that have to do with this?”

“It has _everything_ to do with this!”

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific,” Wooyoung says sharply, icy panic flowing through his body.

“Just answer the fucking question, Wooyoung.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wooyoung snaps. “I’m not answering shit unless you tell me whatever the fuck it is that’s got you acting like this. What’s dating got anything to do with this argument in the first place?

San makes an aggravated gesture at the park. “Literally everything. Everything about our friendship.”

Wooyoung gives an exasperated laugh, sarcastic and not at all amused. “Okay, great. So what you’re trying to say is that you don’t wanna be friends anymore, or what?”

“I can’t be friends with you like this anymore.” San says, agonised. The words look like they cost him all his willpower to say. “I can’t do it. It’s too much.”

Bitter hurt fills Wooyoung’s stomach, bones turning to steel and blood congealing in his veins. He can’t remember what he’d been about to say, standing frozen, mouth open, staring at San. 

_I can’t do it. It’s too much._

Wooyoung’s head is spinning; even breathing seems like an effort. How absolutely unbearable must it be to be his friend?

“Okay,” he whispers, struggling to remember how to form words. “Okay, cool. I’m gonna… I’m gonna go.”

San’s face is a mask of desperation as he steps forward and grabs Wooyoung by the shoulders, fisting his sweater with one hand and grasping the back of his neck with the other, pulling him forward. And in the next breath, he’s closed the distance between them and is pressing his lips against Wooyoung’s.

_San is kissing him. He’s kissing San._

For a second, it feels like time stops. And then Wooyoung’s gripping San back with equal urgency, surging into the kiss. Everything inside him feels like it’s breaking apart and healing.

San’s tongue runs along Wooyoung’s softly parted lips, and he yields, opening up and letting San lick into his mouth, letting himself get pulled more firmly against his body. San makes an anguished sound, pushing his tongue against Wooyoung’s like they’re still fighting instead of kissing, like the world is ending and this is the only thing keeping him alive.

And then San is pulling back, gasping, pupils blown wide. “Do you get it now?” he asks, voice rough.

Wooyoung nods, too dazed to speak.

“I’m in love with you,” San’s voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “I’m in love with you and I can’t continue pretending I’m not. I can’t.”

Wooyoung’s chest is so tight that it feels like his ribs are collapsing in on his lungs. “You’re in love with me?” he whispers. None of this seems like reality.

“Yeah.” San looks defeated, and so, so tired. “And if you don’t feel the same, I understand, just tell me and-”

Wooyoung cuts him off with a kiss. How could San not understand that he feels the same? How is it not written all over his face, in the way he leans into San’s touch?

He tries to convey how he feels with his kisses, spelling out the words he doesn’t know how to say. San melts against him, catching Wooyoung’s mouth again and again and this time it’s softer, sweeter. Less rough and more tender. Wooyoung’s hands settle at the back of San’s neck, thumbs brushing against his jawline gently.

“How could you not realise?” Wooyoung murmurs, the words whispered against San’s lips. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

San rests his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder and then they’re hugging, clinging to each other with relief and something else. Perhaps the realisation of years lost, or the hopefulness of the future.

“We’re so ridiculous,” San mumbles.

“We are,” Wooyoung says in agreement. “That was a shit confession, by the way. I thought you were going to say you hate me and don’t wanna talk ever again.”

San lifts his head, poking Wooyoung in the side indignantly. “At least I confessed! If it were up to you, we could have spent another few years avoiding the inevitable.”

“Inevitable, huh?” Wooyoung says with a smile. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”

San’s gaze darkens, brushing his nose against Wooyoung’s, breath hot against his lips. “I knew you’d fall for my charms eventually.”

Wooyoung pulls him closer by the collar of his jacket, lips meeting again and this time when they kiss it’s _messy_ , both of them too eager, too frantic to be as close as possible. San is kissing him with intent, everything overwhelming and intense, and he can’t help the whimper that slips out when San scrapes teeth lightly over his tongue.

“Shit,” San says, drawing back, voice rough. “Let’s get a cab to the dorm.”

Wooyoung pulls his phone out of his pocket, trying to focus on ordering a taxi and not on the way San has started kissing along his neck, like he can’t bear to stop touching him for a single second.

“San,” he says breathlessly, not wanting to stop but knowing they need to tune down the public displays of affection if they’re going to head back to the busy street.

San reluctantly steps back, though he immediately takes hold of Wooyoung’s hand as they start walking. “So, does that mean you were already in love with me when you asked me to set you up with someone?” he asks.

“What part of _years_ didn’t you understand,” Wooyoung says, trying not to sound too petulant. “Don’t tease me.” 

San’s grin is infectious. “With the amount of suffering you put me through, I’ll tease you all I want.”

* * *

The ride back to their accommodation is excruciating. San keeps glancing at Wooyoung, wanting to confirm that everything that had just happened is _real_ and not a figment of his imagination.

A few minutes into the drive, Wooyoung puts a hand on San’s thigh and starts brushing his fingers along the inseam of his jeans, slow and deliberate. The gentle touches set his blood on fire, and he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral in case the taxi driver notices that something’s up.

“You’re evil,” he mouths at Wooyoung, hands sweaty as he tries not to let the simple touches unravel him too badly.

Wooyoung just smirks at him.

San has no idea how he survives the rest of the journey, especially as Wooyoung gets increasingly daring and keeps moving his hand further up San’s thigh, although never quite reaching where San wants his touch the most. Which is probably a good thing, because it would be horrifically embarrassing if San came from an over-the-pants job in the back of a taxi. 

He’s never felt this out of his mind with desire before.

The walk from the taxi to their building is equally unbearable, and San is grateful that they don’t run into anybody they know, because he doesn’t think his brain is capable of forming coherent sentences right now.

Finally, _finally,_ they’re in their corridor, and San asks, “Your room or mine?”

“Mine,” Wooyoung says. “Want you in my bed.”

 _Jesus fuck._ San is not going to survive this.

As soon as they enter Wooyoung’s room, San has him up against the door, kissing him the way he’d wanted to do earlier in the park, hard and _deep_.

Both of them tug at each other with the same desperation, years of unresolved tension and feelings being poured into their kisses. All tongues sliding against tongues, teeth knocking as both of them deepen the kiss too fast, bodies pushing against each other like they can’t get close enough.

San curls their tongues together, and Wooyoung is so fucking responsive that it’s driving him crazy; the little _nnh-nngh_ sounds Wooyoung keeps making against his lips, the way he rolls his hips forward into San, hands gripping his shoulders.

Everything about the kiss is so fast and hard and overwhelming. Wooyoung’s lips are as soft as San had always imagine they would be, but his imagination had completely failed him in every other regard. Nothing could have prepared him for this, for the feeling of actually having Wooyoung against his body.

San pushes himself between Wooyoung’s legs, gripping his thighs and pressing his hips forward. Wooyoung’s head falls back against the door, groaning lowly. His cheeks are flushed and he’s breathing heavily and San thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Feels good?” San asks. Wooyoung nods, eyes hooded and drooping shut.

San leans in to kiss along Wooyoung’s neck, tasting the skin and memorising all of Wooyoung’s breathless moans. He finds a spot that makes Wooyoung gasp and grind against him, sucks and licks at the skin until a dark mark starts to bloom. It makes the possessive part of him – a side he’d never realised he even had before Wooyoung – shudder with pleasure, the thought of Wooyoung being marked up all nice by him, a physical display of the fact that Wooyoung is _his_.

“F-Fuck, do something more,” Wooyoung gasps. He already looks wrecked and they’ve barely done anything. Not that San feels any better off himself.

“What do you want, baby?” San murmurs, catching Wooyoung’s lips in another deep, toe-curling kiss. The term of endearment feels natural, and he likes the way Wooyoung shudders against him when he says it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the expert?” Wooyoung’s eyes are dazed as he pulls back to stare at San challengingly.

San laughs quietly, kissing the smooth, hot skin along Wooyoung’s throat. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never done anything with a guy before. This is as new for me as it is for you.”

Wooyoung already knows this, of course, and shoves San with playful annoyance, though not hard enough that they lose any points of contact across their bodies. It’s nice, San thinks, that things are still so easy and wonderful. It all feels completely natural, like this is the inescapable conclusion of everything that has ever happened between them.

“What do you wanna do?” Wooyoung asks, arms wrapping around San’s shoulders.

The possibilities are endless. San would probably need three days to prepare an annotated sixty-slide PowerPoint presentation, complete with formatted references at the end. But there’s one thing that comes to mind, something he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since the time they’d done the body shot.

San brushes his hands along Wooyoung’s sides, sliding them under his sweater and running his fingers along the bare skin beneath. He tugs at the material, indicating that he wants to take it off. “Can I?” he asks.

Wooyoung nods, breathless, and leans off the wall slightly to help San pull his sweater and shirt over his head. Smooth skin everywhere comes into view, and this time San is allowed to touch, so he takes his time running his hands over Wooyoung’s back and chest and waist, planting kisses on his shoulder as his hands trace the lines of muscles. Wooyoung soon threads his hands through San’s hair and tugs his face back up, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss.

San can feel that Wooyoung is hard, the vague shape of him through the layers of fabric separating them, and that alone is enough to make him dizzy with lust. “Bed,” he manages to get out.

They stumble across the room towards Wooyoung’s bed, neither of them wanting to let go of each other. Wooyoung lands backwards on the mattress, pulling San on top of him, and hooks his legs behind San’s calves, pressing their bodies together. San can’t help the moan that escapes as he feels Wooyoung’s hard cock against his own, the new angle even better than before. There’s a delicious friction as he pushes his hips forward, and the noise Wooyoung makes sets San’s whole body alight.

His hands lower to the waistband of Wooyoung’s jeans, resting on the fabric. “Can I take these off?”

“Why do you get to be fully dressed when I’m naked?” Wooyoung grumbles, but pushes his hips up anyway so that San can pull down the jeans, leaving his underwear on for now.

To put him more at ease, San tugs off his own shirt, dropping it somewhere next to the bed. The feeling of Wooyoung’s bare chest against his is incredible, and his fingers explore the expanse of bare skin, watching goosebumps bloom along their path. Wooyoung makes an impatient sound and he pulls San into another long kiss, tongue running along the inseam of his lips.

Wooyoung’s started properly grinding up against him, panting into San’s mouth. The pressure feels so fucking _good_ that San could probably get himself off just like this, with Wooyoung’s hands twisted in his hair and rutting against each other with their underwear still on.

But he draws away, sitting back on his heels as he takes in the sight of Wooyoung, eyes dark and unfocused, naked except for a pair of black boxers, skin flushed in the dim light of the room and outline of his cock obvious against the thin fabric of his underwear. San’s never wanted anyone this badly before.

“Why did you stop?” Wooyoung says, pouting slightly in a way that’s almost cute, in stark contrast against the sinful picture of his body sprawled out against the sheets.

“Wanna try something.”

Wooyoung blinks dazedly as San leans forward and places a kiss on the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh, holding his hips down gently with his hands. He’d fantasised about Wooyoung’s thighs on many occasions, their beautifully muscular shape, the way San could never keep his eyes off them whenever Wooyoung wore tight pants.

The only other time he’d had Wooyoung beneath him like this had been the body shot, but that had been different and utterly pales in comparison to the real thing, to watching Wooyoung get increasingly wound up as San sucks a mark into the smooth, soft skin of his thigh and watches it bloom dark red, the shape of San’s mouth imprinted on Wooyoung’s body like a stamp.

Wooyoung’s hands are gripping the sheets tightly. “Stop teasing,” he says.

And of fucking course Wooyoung would be like this in bed: loud with his noises and unapologetic with his demands. Clearly willing to let San take care of him, but also refusing to submit completely.

San has never been able to deny Wooyoung anything and that isn’t about to change now, so he presses his palm against Wooyoung’s boxers, tracing the head of his cock with his finger as Wooyoung shudders into the bed.

“Shit, San, I – _hngh_ , fuck – I want more, I need-” Wooyoung cuts off with a choked moan as San presses his hand harder against his cock.

“Can I blow you?” San asks, too delirious with lust to think of a less obscene phrasing.

Wooyoung’s head falls against the bed, back arching a little. “Fuck. Fuck, okay, yeah.”

San pauses for a second to unzip his own jeans because _holy fuck_ he’s so hard and the tight confines of his zipper had started to become unbearably painful, but he’s too distracted to think about that for long and leans forward to tug Wooyoung’s underwear down and off his legs, dropping it onto the floor.

Wooyoung’s hidden his face behind his arm, obviously embarrassed, but San doesn’t want any of that. The sight of Wooyoung laid out before him is stunning, better than anything he could have possibly imagined; the lines of his body are an artist’s wet dream against the white sheets.

“You’re so perfect,” San says, gently tugging Wooyoung’s arm away from his face. Wooyoung blinks up at him, cheeks flushed, and San’s so fucking in love with him that his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

He kisses his way along Wooyoung’s chest and then down his naval, tongue hot on Wooyoung’s skin and with the occasional light brush of teeth that make Wooyoung shiver. San’s isn’t totally sure of what he’s doing, but he also thinks he knows the general gist of how to blow someone and make it good, and when Wooyoung’s looking at him like _that_ it just makes him wanna try harder, do anything to make him moan again.

San pins Wooyoung’s hips against the bed and leans forward slowly and wraps his lips around Wooyoung’s cock. Wooyoung gives a guttural groan, nails digging into the sheets, and San uses the noise as encouragement to relax his throat and take him in more deeply. He keeps his eyes on Wooyoung’s face, searching for his reactions, trying to see what makes him feel best; curls his hand around the base he can’t fit into his mouth.

“San, oh my god, _fuck_ , that feels so good, f-fuck.” Wooyoung voice is tight, words choked off between his moans. It’s so fucking exhilarating to hear the sounds he keeps making and listen to the way he repeats San’s name like it’s a prayer.

When it’s a little much and breathing gets hard, San pulls off and replaces his mouth with his hand. “I’ve wanted to do this since the body shot,” he admits, voice low. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d look, all desperate for me.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung groans, sounding wrecked. “San- fuck.”

Keeping his eyes locked with Wooyoung’s, San lowers his head again and licks along the tip of Wooyoung’s cock, then takes him as deep as he can without feeling like he’s gonna choke. And he likes this, really fucking likes how it feels to have Wooyoung gasping below him, drawing moan after moan out of his throat. San’s own cock is throbbing in his underwear, like he could come just from watching Wooyoung fall apart.

“S-stop,” Wooyoung chokes out, tugging at San’s hair. “San, stop.”

San lifts his head, wiping his spit-slicked lips with his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Wooyoung flushes. “Don’t wanna come yet.”

“I don’t mind if you do.” San says. “You can come in my mouth if you want.”

“You can’t just fucking _say_ stuff like that,” Wooyoung says, kicking San, though not hard enough to hurt. “Another time. I wanna touch you now.”

So there will be other times. Even though that was the natural conclusion to draw from their current situation, the confirmation makes butterflies soar through San’s body.

A moment later, Wooyoung pushes San’s pants and boxers down, neither of them bothering to move the clothes all the way off and instead leaving them halfway down his thighs, just low enough to be out of the way for now.

Wooyoung wraps his hand around San’s aching cock, tight and perfect, and San’s so sensitive after neglecting himself for so long that his hips jerk forward unintentionally.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans.

Wooyoung hums, moving his hand as he jacks him off with firm, assured movements. San wonders whether this is how Wooyoung touches himself, the thought jolting a flash of heat through his stomach. He can already feel the pressure building in his abdomen, way too fast, way too soon. But he’s been hard for fucking ages, and he’s been dreaming about this for so long. Even just the sight of Wooyoung’s hand around his cock is enough to send him hurtling towards the edge.

“Wait, shit, hold on a second,” San says, pushing Wooyoung’s hand away even though his body is screaming at him to chase that gorgeous release.

“What is it?” Wooyoung is watching him with an amused look, as though he knows exactly why San had told him to stop.

“I- I just need a moment,” San says. His skin feels hypersensitive, even just fucking looking at Wooyoung feels like too much. “Fuck, I’m gonna last, like, three seconds.”

Wooyoung laughs, pressing a kiss against the corner of San’s mouth. The gesture makes San’s heart expand in his chest; there’s just something about the casual intimacy that makes his head spin, even though Wooyoung’s hand had been on his dick a few seconds ago.

“I love you,” San says, a little out of the blue, but he can’t help himself.

Wooyoung’s cheeks flush and he hides his face in San’s neck, his hair brushing against San’s shoulder. “I love you, too,” he mumbles into San’s skin.

San turns his head to catch Wooyoung’s lips and they’re kissing again, a new rush of intoxicating feelings flowing through San as both of them grip at each other, never close enough. San swallows each of Wooyoung’s whimpers, light-headed from the way his hands dig into his back, forcing their bodies to press tightly together.

His cock slides against Wooyoung’s; it’s wet because of the spit and because both of them are leaking pretty badly. Then Wooyoung fucking _bites_ San’s lower lip and San thinks he can maybe feel his soul leave his body because it’s all so _good_ , it’s the first time this sort of thing has been so intense, he’s never felt this kind of all-consuming pleasure before, skin so hot he feels feverish.

“San,” Wooyoung pants against his mouth. “San, touch me, _please_ ,”

The way he says it, the contrast between shy and demanding, makes San think he would rob the moon out of the sky for Wooyoung if he asked.

He wraps his hand around both of their cocks, thrusting forward to test the friction as he slides against Wooyoung, and the sight is so fucking obscene that a gritted moan leaves his throat. He repeats the movement, tightening his grip and trying not to lose himself too much in the sensation, trying to focus on making Wooyoung feel good.

Wooyoung has his head thrown back against the pillow, saying something that’s maybe meant to be words, but the only thing San can make out between the incoherent moans is his name. He looks so fucking _gone_ , and it’s the way Wooyoung keeps repeating San’s name that’s really unravelling him, making him jerk his hips forward with less control and more desperation.

“San- _oh_ , yeah – San, I’m close, I’m really fucking close-” 

San’s close too, thighs trembling as he tries to keep his movements evenly paced. Wooyoung’s fingers are digging into his back so hard that it almost hurts, everything completely overwhelming. San bites into Wooyoung’s shoulder, sucking a mark into the skin, and Wooyoung brokenly groans his name again.

“Come for me,” San grits out, “wanna see you come.”

Wooyoung’s hands clench and unclench against his skin and then he arches off the bed, whole body convulsing and face beautifully twisting with pleasure as he comes. And he’s so fucking _loud_ , all fast gasps and drawn-out moans.

The sight alone is enough to break through the last fragile walls of San’s self-control and he feels his own orgasm tear through him, shuddering through his body with force, cock twitching and flexing in his hand.

His come spills onto Wooyoung’s abs, hot and slippery, and it makes San’s body throb, a repeated chant of _mine, mine, mine_ ringing through his mind.

Limbs shaky, San all but collapses, too fucked out to care about the sticky mess between them. Wooyoung’s hands absently stroke through his hair, and San snuggles against his side and presses a kiss against the bite mark he’d left on his shoulder, still feeling the need to be as close as possible.

“Holy fuck,” Wooyoung says, dazed.

“Mhm,” San says in agreement, eyes drifting shut with the deep satisfaction in his bones. That might have been the best orgasm of his life. Definitely the best sexual encounter, there was absolutely no competition in that regard. Nobody would ever compare to Wooyoung.

“We came at, like, the exact same time.” Wooyoung sounds awed. “I thought that shit only happens in porn.”

San snorts, sweaty and content. “I guess we’re just super in sync.”

“Tell me about it. That was so hot, holy shit.”

“ _You’re_ so hot,” San mumbles, tracing patterns against Wooyoung’s bare skin. He laughs when Wooyoung makes an embarrassed noise and buries his face into the pillow.

As much as San wants to cuddle with Wooyoung and maybe drift off to sleep together, he knows it’s only a matter of time before the stickiness becomes uncomfortable. “D’you wanna shower, or should I grab you a towel?” he asks, making himself sit up. It feels almost painful to separate himself from Wooyoung, but he knows that he’ll be able to be right next to him again as soon as he’s done them cleaning up.

“’M lazy. Can you get me a towel?”

San grabs one from Wooyoung’s bathroom, running it under the sink to dampen the material. His heart feels full as he returns to the bed, wiping himself down and then passing the towel to Wooyoung.

“Do you wanna go on a date?” Wooyoung asks suddenly, when he’s done cleaning himself up.

“What, like, right now?” San asks, raising an eyebrow because they’re both very naked.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Obviously not. I meant sometime soon.”

San smiles as he presses his lips against Wooyoung’s in a chaste kiss, settling down next to him so that as much of their bodies are pressed together as possible. He knows he’s being clingy, but he also can’t help it, and Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, I’d like to go on a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANDDDDD there u have it, they finally managed to communicate like functional humans... we love that for them. the next chapter might not be out for a while because i'll be travelling with my friends and i have exams after that, so i tried to make the ending not as much of a cliffhanger lmfao
> 
> if u enjoyed it pretty pls leave a comment because i'd love to hear ur thoughts, and check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/woosanist) or ask me anything on my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/woosanists) !! thx to everyone who writes to me about enjoying the story, i appreciate u all so much xx


	9. intrusion

The room is warm, sunlight seeping around the corners of the closed curtains when San blinks awake. Everything around him smells like Wooyoung, but he quickly registers that the bed is cold and empty, and that Wooyoung definitely isn’t lying next to him.

San sits up, the covers falling around his waist.

His heart stutters a little in his chest, but he calls out, “Wooyoung?” in case Wooyoung is just in the bathroom, or something. There’s no reply.

 _Okay. Okay, this is totally fine_. Wooyoung might have needed to go to a morning lecture. On a Saturday. Without leaving a note or a text to tell San that he’d left. There was no way Wooyoung had suddenly regretted everything from last night and had bolted with the intention of never talking to San again.

Right?

San’s just finished brushing his teeth (he’s kept a spare toothbrush in Wooyoung’s room for over a year) and is in the middle of trying to rationalize all the different scenarios in which Wooyoung would realistically leave so abruptly when the door swings open.

Wooyoung steps through the doorway, dressed in a woollen sweater and jeans. He’s holding a few paper bags that San immediately recognises from the bakery downstairs, just outside their accommodation.

“Oh, you’re awake already,” Wooyoung says, looking disappointed.

“W-What is that?” San asks, stumbling a little over the words in his surprise.

Wooyoung kicks his shoes off and climbs back into the bed, holding out one of the bags to San. He takes it, brain still not processing much beyond the fact that Wooyoung’s here, practically glowing and stunning in the morning light, and that it seems like everything between them is still fine.

“Well,” Wooyoung says, cheeks a little flushed. “You always surprise me with stuff from the bakery downstairs, so I wanted to return the favour, since it’s rare that I wake up before you.”

“Oh,” San says, heart clenching with endearment. He helplessly glances between the bag in his hand and Wooyoung’s excited face, trying to not get overwhelmed by the emotions crashing through him. “Thank you.”

Wooyoung waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, clearly embarrassed. “It’s whatever. But why did you look like you’d seen a ghost when I walked back into the room? You didn’t think I’d dipped, did you?”

San rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

“You’re ridiculous. You really were worried I’d ever do that sort of thing?”

“It’s not like that,” San says, sitting down on the bed and opening the bag of pastries to have something to do with his hands. “I’m just, uh. I’ve gotten used to believing that I’m the one who likes you more than you like me.”

“Well, un-believe it.” Wooyoung replies, opening his own pastry bag with a frown.

Wooyoung starts telling San how he’d run into one of their hallway neighbours at the bakery and they quickly fall into a comfortable conversation. It strikes San how little has changed between them aside from the physical aspect; in a strange way, it really is like they’d been dating for much longer than either of them had realised. Maybe Mingi had been onto something when he’d joked that San and Wooyoung behaved like a (very sexually repressed) married couple.

Wooyoung is saying something about the essay he’s been working on, but San’s distracted by the tiny remnant of cream from the pastry that’s stuck to the corner of Wooyoung’s lower lip.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Wooyoung asks, a little shyness creeping into his tone.

San feels some part of him instinctively want to flinch away and pretend that he hadn’t been looking, but he’s so glad that he doesn’t have to do that anymore. Instead of replying, he leans forward and gently holds Wooyoung’s cheeks, kissing the edge of his mouth and then again along the centre. His lips taste sweet, and Wooyoung’s eyes are dazed when San pulls away.

As much as San wants to keep kissing, he really doesn’t want to risk overwhelming Wooyoung when everything between them is still this fresh, so he forces himself to sit back down. But then Wooyoung is leaning forward, pressing up against San and capturing his lips in a more heated kiss, pastries lying forgotten. His woollen sweater is soft against San’s bare chest, and San tugs him closer until he’s half tangled on his lap.

San moves to drop kisses along the skin of Wooyoung’s shoulder, pushing down the collar of his sweater to mouth at his collarbone. The skin is all marked up from last night, and San’s filled with dark satisfaction as he traces his tongue along one of the darker marks.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” Wooyoung says, and San is pleased to note that he sounds a little breathless.

“It’s just my friends. Ignore it,” he replies, too distracted by the feeling of Wooyoung’s body to think of anything else. He jostles Wooyoung properly into his lap, kissing up his jaw.

Wooyoung breath hitches when San kisses the sensitive spot under his ear, hands tightening around San’s shoulders. “M-maybe it’s an emergency,” he mumbles.

“It’s almost definitely not an emergency,” San says, hands slipping up under Wooyoung’s sweater.

But his phone keeps buzzing on the table, barely able to keep up with the influx of texts from his friends. San’s mad at himself for not muting it, because the sounds are quite distracting. Wooyoung glances at the table when the loud buzzing doesn’t stop, then moves reluctantly off San’s lap.

“Those guys are seriously the most annoying people I’ve ever met,” San says as he grudgingly grabs his phone off the table, opening the groupchat with irritation in case it really is an emergency.

 **yunho @ gang gang gang wassup**  
bros wheres san  
i havent heard from him since b4 he went to the party

 **mingi**  
yo idk  
i was wondering that too

 **hongjoong**  
thats weird  
he said he'd text us when he got home

 **yunho**  
ikr its weird  
what if he died  
omg.. that would b so sad  
he’d die before the love of his life ever touched his dick

 **mingi**  
shutup ur right that would be so sad

 **yunho**  
can we get some Fs in the chat

 **mingi**  
F

 **seonghwa**  
no

 **yunho**  
seonghwa pls  
u have to pay respects to san's lack of sex life

 **seonghwa**  
ok fine  
F

 **mingi**  
LMAO HE DID IT

 **yunho**  
HAHAHAHAHAH!??!!!!!!??  
wow that was so epic  
this is a memorable day

 **san**  
holy shit u guys are so annoying

 **yunho**  
omg ur alive!!!! yay  
u didnt die b4 u and wooyoung touched dicks

 **san**  
yup  
and even if i die now that wouldnt b the case

 **yunho**  
w  
waht?  
whathhhtt???  
what does that mena  
mean**

 **mingi**  
What The Fuck..

 **seonghwa**  
um san???

 **hongjoong**  
san? explain?

 **san**  
;)

 **yunho**  
WHATHTHHTEFUCK????

 **seonghwa**  
UMMMMMMM.....????

 **yunho**  
EXXCUSE ME??!?  
SANNNNNNN?!???!?!

 **mingi**  
WTF??$?@£*£(??  
WHATTHE FUCKKK?@£*(

 **yunho**  
UMMMMMMMMMMM??????

 **hongjoong**  
SAN  
EXPLAIN  
RIGHT NOW

 **mingi**  
HAHHAHAHAHA??!???%??^?&?  
SAN BRO WHATHHFUCK

 **yunho**  
did that bitchass just leave  
hes not reading out messages  
san i will KILL YOU

 **mingi**  
SAN YOU MOTHERFUCKER

* * *

Wooyoung thinks he could get used to living like this. He and San spend the morning talking and watching videos on his laptop, which is pretty standard for them, but the difference now is that San won’t stop cuddling him, and Wooyoung can turn his head whenever he wants to press his lips against San’s. And the best thing is that he doesn’t have to feel guilty about his feelings all the time anymore. Instead, they’ve become something that make him warm inside, especially whenever he catches San looking at him.

“Where do you wanna go on our first date?” Wooyoung asks San in the afternoon, absently running his fingers through San’s hair. San has made himself comfortable lying pressed against his side, head against Wooyoung’s shoulder and legs tangled as they watch the vine compilation that had come up next on YouTube autoplay.

“I’m happy with whatever you want,” San replies immediately.

“That’s not an answer.” Wooyoung mumbles, flicking San gently on the forehead.

“Why, where do you want to go?”

“I asked you first.”

“And I said I wanna do whatever you want.”

Wooyoung pushes him off, sitting back and crossing his arms. “Are we really going to fight because both of us want to make the other happy?”

San sighs dramatically and pauses the YouTube video to sit up. “Fine, let’s go to, um, the amusement park, or something.”

“That… sounds fun actually,” Wooyoung says, trying to remember the last time he’d been. He and San had vaguely made plans that they’d go together eventually, but they were usually too lazy. “I don’t think I’ve gone to one in, like, over a year.”

San puts the laptop aside, closing it and stretching as he stands up. “Let’s go, then.”

Wooyoung blinks at him. “Right now?”

“Why not?” San says with a shrug. “Technically, watching movies while cuddling is a date activity, so our first date has already started. Neither of us have plans this evening, so we might as well go now. I wanna see whether I can beat you in the Balloon and Dart game.”

Wooyoung grabs his jacket off San’s desk chair. “You don’t stand a chance. Your aim is horrific, remember the beer pong incident?”

San pouts exaggeratedly and crosses his arms. He looks so cute that Wooyoung pokes his cheek just for the hell of it, which makes San break into a smile. “If you’re going to brag like that, you better be ready to live up to your words,” he says.

“Oh, you bet I will,” Wooyoung replies, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

And when San takes his hand as they leave the room, Wooyoung realises how completely at ease and happy he feels. It really is like he gets to have everything he loved about his friendship with San, just made even better in every possible way. He feels like he’s floating through the clouds, heart soaring in an exhilaration, and yet still completely comfortable and at ease.

Yeah, he could definitely get used to living like this.

* * *

By the time they get to the amusement park, the sun has started setting, painting the sky with streaks of orange and yellow. They play the Balloons and Darts game, and San somehow manages to secure a victory for himself, which he doesn’t stop gloating about for the next fifteen minutes.

San also insists that they should get some apple cider to drink, so they sip on that as they wander around the park, bickering about which of the rides to go on first.

“You’re supposed to go on the best ride last,” San is saying, because Wooyoung had suggested that they should go on the largest roller coaster.

“What’s the point in that? Why don’t we just go on the most fun rides, in whichever order we feel like?” Wooyoung asks, finishing the last gulp of his apple cider and chucking the paper cup into one of the trashcans.

“Because you need to save up some of the anticipation,” San says insistently. “I’m not going on that one until the end. You can go without me.”

“You’re a shit date,” Wooyoung tells him. “Demanding, uncompromising, a graceless winner, and with bad taste in amusement park rides. Zero out of five stars; would not recommend.”

San wraps an arm around Wooyoung, tugging him against his side. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking to go on dates with anyone else. You’re the unlucky one who’s stuck with me.”

“Whatever will I do?” Wooyoung says, not bothering to hide his smile as he leans his head against San.

They walk past one of the medium-sized roller coasters, which has a slightly shorter queue in front of it than some of the others they’d walked past. A few of the queues had been massive; even though it’s getting late, the park is still relatively crowded and busy.

“This one looks fun, and it’s not big enough for you to justify your dumb argument about saving the fun rides until later,” Wooyoung says pointedly.

“Okay, fine.” San finishes his apple cider and throws the cup away, walking towards the ride and motioning for Wooyoung to follow.

They’ve only just joined the queue when a loud voice from behind them says, “Oh my god, San?”

Wooyoung turns around and sees a very pretty girl behind them, with long black hair and star-shaped, red sunglasses perched on her head. His heart drops in his chest when he immediately recognises her as one of the girls San had dated, a year or so ago. As far as Wooyoung remembers, she’d been one of his more serious girlfriends, which basically means that she’d stuck around for longer than a month.

San’s mouth opens and closes, and then he says, “Boyeon?”

“Wow, it’s been ages!” Boyeon says, pulling San into a hug. She’s very tall, nearly the same height as Wooyoung, and slim, her light blue tank top emphasising her tapered waist. She turns towards Wooyoung, holding out her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you. I’m San’s ex-girlfriend.”

The way she says it, like it’s some inside joke that Wooyoung should find funny, makes his skin prickle, but he still shakes her hand with a smile. She keeps glancing at San and it’s making him restless, which is stupid because San broke up with her a year ago.

“This is my- uh, this is Wooyoung.” San says, cutting himself off halfway through the sentence.

Wooyoung wishes he could ask what San had been about to say – maybe _‘my best friend’_ or _‘my date’_ – but they haven’t had a chance to have the _what-are-we_ talk yet, and now’s really not the right time when Boyeon is smiling at them like she can’t believe her luck. “It’s really good to see you again, San,” she says. “You look great.”

A jolt of jealousy shoots through Wooyoung, and he brushes his hand through his hair as he tries to not let himself get too bothered by Boyeon’s presence. Of fucking course it would be just his luck that on his first ever date with San they’d run into one of his numerous ex-girlfriends, and of course it would be someone who looked like a fucking supermodel.

San seems uncomfortable as he pushes his hands into his pockets. “Actually, uh-”

“Oh my goodness,” Boyeon interrupts, face lighting up with a pretty smile. “I wasn’t trying to hit on you. You dumped me, we’re over, and all that.”

She still looks like she’s amused by a joke only she’s aware of, especially when her gaze flicks to Wooyoung. Wooyoung wonders whether it would be weird if he put an arm around San or held his hand, or something. He doesn’t know yet whether they’re at _that_ stage yet, with this only being their first date, but Boyeon’s presence is making him uneasy in a way he’s not used to.

When San had dated before, obviously Wooyoung had been jealous, but he’d always convinced himself that nothing between him and San was ever going to happen anyway, so he’d repressed the feelings and never examined them too closely. Now, he wants everyone in the fucking world to know that him and San are dating, and he most especially wants Boyeon to know.

“Well, it was nice running into you, but we should really-” San starts saying, but Boyeon interrupts him again.

“Don’t let me being here bother you! You were already in the queue for the ride, I’d hate for you to lose your spot. I don’t think we ended things on bad terms, and I’d like to think that we’re more mature than this, don’t you agree?”

San glances helplessly between Wooyoung and Boyeon. Wooyoung gives him a shrug, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. He doesn’t need San thinking he’s gonna be some possessive weirdo that doesn’t let him talk to whoever he pleases.

“Um, okay.” San says eventually.

Boyeon smiles brightly, seemingly taking San’s words to mean that she’s been invited to hang out with them. She starts chatting about some of her classes and asking San how he’s been doing, and even gets Wooyoung involved in the conversation, sounding genuinely interested in how his degree is going. Wooyoung wishes he could have a valid reason to dislike her besides the fact that she’d dated San, but she seems like a very nice girl, which almost makes things worse.

With someone like Boyeon as San’s girlfriend, there’s nobody who wouldn’t be impressed. San could probably bring her to all the frat parties and have everyone in the room be jealous of him for getting with someone so hot, and the other guys would probably glance over at them dancing with envy. San could definitely introduce her to his parents and have them approve, glad that their son found someone so pretty and friendly.

As far as Wooyoung knows, San’s parents aren’t homophobic, but he’s definitely concerned about what their reaction will be when San tells them he’s actually dating the guy he’d always introduced as his platonic best friend. And what the frat boys at the party would say if San brought Wooyoung to any of the parties as his _boyfriend_ , how different the looks they’d get would be if they danced together.

“Wooyoung, how about you? Have you watched any interesting shows recently?” Boyeon asks, forcing him to zone back into the conversation.

“Um, not really,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s trying his best to not get too irritated with Boyeon for suddenly intruding on his first date with San, but the longer she keeps trying to make conversation, the more he can feel the negative emotions ball in his stomach. Not to mention the fact that San still isn’t saying anything about the fact that he’s dating Wooyoung now.

“Come on,” she says, nudging his arm. “Surely there’s something you’ve watched recently.”

“I, um, I guess I saw some anime,” he says reluctantly.

Boyeon claps her hands in excitement. “Oh! I love anime. San and I used to watch Attack on Titan together.”

Wooyoung resists the urge to roll his eyes as another hot wave of jealousy shoots through him. He wishes she would just fucking _leave_ already.

San clears his throat uncomfortably and Boyeon immediately starts giggling again. “San, I promise I’m not hitting on you. Quit looking like you’re scared I’m going to jump on you at any second. You think a year isn’t long enough to get over someone?”

Wooyoung wants to ask her why she doesn’t just leave them the hell alone in that case, but he doesn’t want to make a scene when San clearly doesn’t seem to want Boyeon to know they’re here on a date. At this point, though, he almost feels petty enough to say that, ready to not give a damn about consequences.

“So, Wooyoung,” Boyeon says, but her gaze is still on San like she’s trying to read his expression. “You were talking about anime? What did you watch?”

Thankfully, Wooyoung is saved from having to answer because they’ve reached the front of the queue and the cashier calls out, “Okay, there’s space for four more people.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his irritated expression as Boyeon joins them in their row of seats, squeezing herself between him and San. It doesn’t make sense to him why San still hasn’t told her that she’s interrupting their date, and it’s starting to get on his nerves. Is San embarrassed about him, or something?

“I haven’t been on this in months,” Boyeon tells Wooyoung. He nods, barely bothering to pretend that he gives a shit. He’s never one to be unnecessarily rude to anyone, but right now it doesn’t exactly feel unnecessary, even though, technically, Boyeon isn’t even doing anything wrong.

The entire ride is excruciating, and Wooyoung can feel himself get even more pissed off as Boyeon falls against San for what feels like the fiftieth time. Wooyoung seriously thinks if he has to continue putting up with her leaning on San every three seconds, he might just fucking leave. Especially since San still won’t fucking tell her that he’s with Wooyoung now.

He wishes he could just kiss San in front of Boyeon, or something, to really convey the message of what she’d been interrupting, but he doesn’t know how San would feel about him that, which he hates. Everything had been going so perfectly, and now he’s just fucking mad, chest tight with anger and jealousy.

“That was so much fun!” Boyeon says, as they climb out of the ride, face prettily flushed. “Don’t you think, Wooyoung?”

“Yeah, so fun,” he mutters, trying unsuccessfully to keep the annoyance in his tone to a minimum.

“I’m really glad I ran into you guys.” Boyeon continues, undeterred. She turns to face San, looking shy for the first time since she joined them. “And, uh, San, since we broke up a year ago, on good terms… I don’t know how to say this but, um, I-”

That’s the final straw. Wooyoung grabs San’s arm, gripping it tightly as he tugs him towards the nearby bathroom. “So sorry, Boyeon, I have to discuss something with San. It’s an emergency. We’ll be right back.”

He barely sees Boyeon’s confused expression, seething as he drags San towards the bathroom door. As soon as they’re inside, Wooyoung turns to face San, glaring at his apologetic expression. “Okay, what the _fuck_.”

“I had no idea she was gonna be here, I swear-”

“I know you didn’t think she’d be here,” Wooyoung grits out. He realises that he’s still holding San’s arm tightly, and loosens his grip, not letting go completely. “I’m really confused as to why the hell you didn’t just tell her that she’s interrupting _our date_.”

San’s eyes widen in surprise, darting across Wooyoung’s face. “I didn’t know whether you wanted me to be that obvious about it. I was scared that- that I’d make you uncomfortable if I told her.”

“That’s idiotic,” Wooyoung says, hating the way his chest is still twisting with jealousy. “What made me uncomfortable was having to sit next to her while she clearly kept trying to hit on you, and you not bothering to let her know that you’re taken.”

He doesn’t know if he’s being too presumptuous in assuming San agrees that he’s taken, but right now he can’t think beyond the negative emotions that have settled in his stomach like rocks.

“I wanted to tell her,” San says, voice low and sincere. “I just wanted to check with you before I started telling everyone that we’re on a date, in case you ever had second thoughts or-”

Wooyoung shoves him against the wall, hands still fisted in the material of San’s jacket. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would I be having second thoughts? Why would you think I’m not serious about everything between us after what happened last night?” he knows his cheeks are flushing, but he forces the words out anyway. “Are _you_ having second thoughts? Maybe you’re the one who-”

But suddenly San is kissing him, pulling him hard against his body and tangling his hand in Wooyoung’s hair. It’s hot and heavy; almost like San is trying to convey in his movements how much he wants this. Wooyoung returns the kiss with vigour, frustration bubbling over as he digs his fingers into San’s shoulders.

San draws back first, breathing heavily. “I would never, _never_ have second thoughts about you.”

Instead of replying, Wooyoung presses him harder against the wall, brushing his lips along San’s neck. San inhales sharply as Wooyoung sucks at the skin, then releasing it to run his tongue along the reddening mark. He repeats the action, watching the skin bloom a darker shade, and this time San groans low in his throat, hands tightening in Wooyoung’s hair.

“I’m just-” Wooyoung whispers shakily against San’s skin, hands still gripping his shoulders. “I want you to look at only me.”

 _Fucking hell,_ he has no idea what made him do that. Maybe he is more of a possessive weirdo than he’d initially thought, because now he’s gone and given San a hickey like he could fucking mark his territory or some shit. But when he pulls back to apologise and hide his face in embarrassment, he sees that San’s expression is anything but angry.

San’s eyes are dark and filled with obvious desire, and he pulls Wooyoung against his body almost desperately, catching his lips in a hard kiss. Both of them tug at each other with equal urgency, and Wooyoung feels some of the negative emotions balled in his stomach loosen a little; the jealousy and insecurity starting to melt slowly like thawing ice.

“You’re the only one I see,” San mumbles against his lips. He leans back to look Wooyoung directly in the eye. “Nobody has ever made me feel this way before. I’m _in love_ with you. I loved you when I thought there was no chance of you ever liking me back, and I’ll love you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Wooyoung stares at him. He feels like his chest is cracking open, like the magnitude of the emotions rushing through him is too much for his body to handle. He has a weird urge to cry, but swallows down the lump in his throat, because that would be fucking humiliating.

“I love you, so much,” he says instead, trying to keep his voice even despite the tightness in his chest.

“It’s okay if you think it’s too soon,” San says, hands moving from Wooyoung’s hair to his waist, thumb brushing along the skin under his sweater, “but I was, um, I was wondering whether you’d like to make things, you know, official?”

Wooyoung feels his stomach swoop, but this time it’s a pleasant sensation. “You mean, like…?”

“Be my boyfriend?” San asks, and his cheeks are a little pink and he looks so endearingly shy that it almost hurts Wooyoung’s heart.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that,” Wooyoung whispers.

He can’t believe this is happening, after all the months and years of hopeless yearning and dreaming. San looks equally overwhelmed, and Wooyoung can’t resist pressing another, more chaste kiss on his mouth.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks breathlessly. As much as he’d been enjoying their date before Boyeon’s arrival, he’s ready to go back to their accommodation. Hopefully after getting to tell Boyeon that San is actually his _boyfriend,_ because he still feels a little vindictive.

“I think that might make this a record-breakingly short first date, but absolutely,” San says, loosening his hold on Wooyoung, even though he looks reluctant to do so.

Both of them push off the wall and start trying to make themselves look a little more presentable in the bathroom mirror. A middle-aged man comes in to use one of the urinals while Wooyoung is trying to make his hair lie flat, and Wooyoung exchanges a look with San as both of them realise how lucky they’d been that nobody had come in to use the toilet a few minutes ago, which would definitely have resulted in an awkward encounter for everyone involved.

They leave the bathroom quickly, and Wooyoung notices immediately that Boyeon is still standing where they’d left her, typing something on her phone. She looks up with a bright smile as they approach her, but then her eyes fall onto San’s neck and the very obvious hickey against his pale skin and her sunny expression dims a little as she glances between them in confusion, not seeming to connect the dots.

“I’m really sorry, Boyeon, but we’re going to have to say goodbye,” San says. “And I wanted to tell you that I’m actually in a relationship with-”

Boyeon’s eyes widen and she starts laughing loudly, cutting off the rest of San’s sentence. “Oh my god, San. I told you so many times that I’m not trying to get back together with you.”

San exchanges a confused look with Wooyoung, neither of them really knowing how to interpret Boyeon’s words. She continues giggling for a moment, but then her face turns serious as she slides her phone into her jeans pocket.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re in a relationship, hopefully then you will be more open to what I want to say,” Boyeon says, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. “Obviously, I’d never want to get in the way of your guys’ bro code, or whatever, but what I was trying to say earlier is that Wooyoung, I think you’re really cute, and – if San doesn’t mind, of course – I’d like if you would let me know if you ever wanna… hang out.”

 _“What?”_ San’s gobsmacked expression mirrors how Wooyoung feels.

“I mean, since we broke up ages ago and on good terms, I don’t think it would be that awkward. So I’ll give you my number, Wooyoung, and feel free to call me-”

“Actually,” San interrupts loudly, stepping to wrap his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulder just as Boyeon reaches towards her phone. “I was about to say before. I’m in a relationship _with Wooyoung._ We were here on a date. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your… what?” Boyeon looks completely at a loss. Wooyoung would feel bad for her if he wasn’t too busy feeling the rush of satisfaction and happiness flowing through his whole body. _San’s boyfriend._

“My boyfriend,” San repeats, tightening his grip on Wooyoung’s shoulders.

Boyeon’s gaze flits between the two of them, then down to the mark on San’s neck. “Holy shit!” she exclaims, slapping her palm over her face. “That’s why you suddenly had a hickey out of nowhere. I’m such an idiot, oh my god. This is so embarrassing. What the fuck, I’m really sorry.”

Wooyoung is still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Boyeon hadn’t been making a move on San after all. He kinda feels like a dumbass for getting so unnecessarily jealous, but also, San is now officially his boyfriend, so he can’t bring himself to regret it too much. “It’s okay, we should have told you earlier,” he says, taking pity on her. After all, she is a nice girl, and he doesn’t see any point in being deliberately mean.

“No, I shouldn’t have invited myself along to join you guys,” Boyeon said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m happy for you, San.”

“Thanks,” San says, and he shoots Wooyoung a small smile that he can’t help but return. “I’m happy, too.”

“I really am an idiot,” Boyeon says, shaking her head. “You guys are so obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier. Jesus Christ. Anyway, I’ll leave you to your date. All the best with everything, and sorry again.”

“It’s my fault for not saying anything sooner,” San tells her, sounding more relaxed than he’d been around Boyeon since she’d joined them. “Good luck with everything, we’ll see you around.”

She waves at them, walking off into the thinning crowd of people at one of the nearby booths. Wooyoung exhales a laugh to himself, shaking his head slightly as he watches her go. He’d probably misinterpreted the situation as much as Boyeon, but he can’t help but be relieved by how the whole thing had turned out.

San presses a kiss against Wooyoung’s cheek, catching him off guard. “What was that for?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” San says sincerely. “I should have told her earlier that we’re here together.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Yeah, you should’ve. But you made up for it, and that’s what counts.”

“You know, you getting all possessive and jealous was kinda hot,” San says, letting his arm drop from Wooyoung’s shoulder and instead taking his hand as they walk towards the exit. “Even though she wasn’t actually interested in me.”

Wooyoung glances at him in amusement. “That’s what does it for you? Me giving you a hickey? You should’ve told me sooner.”

“God, you’re irritating,” San says, although he’s smiling.

The air is a little colder now that they’re out of the crowded amusement park, the bright lights and loud sounds fading into the distance, and Wooyoung uses it as an excuse to lean in closer against San. “Maybe, but you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for the long wait!!! ive been horribly busy with uni etc the past few weeks, hence why it took me so long to post this. we're coming to the last parts of this story (sad!) with only 1-2 chapters left before the end. and the next chapter will b 90% smut u have been warned lmao xoxo
> 
> please pls leave a comment if you enjoyed, there's nothing that motivates me to write more than reading your guys' thoughts! and catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/woosanist) in the meantime <3


	10. touch me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh im so sorry for the long wait, ive been going thru some major writer’s block but hopefully that’s over now :p also this chapter is mainly nsfw so u have been warned lmaoo

**san @ wooyoung (8.23pm)**  
r u done shopping yet  
where r uuuuu :(  
hurry uppppp im bored  
miss u  
hellooooo its been 30 mins come back rn

San drops his phone against the mattress, rolling on his side and sighing. He’s definitely being a clingy bitch, but he can’t quite convince himself to stop when now that it’s _allowed;_ now he can text his boyfriend and ask him when he’ll be back so that they can have dinner together.

His phone keeps vibrating with messages from the groupchat, but he’s not in the mood to deal with their inquisition right now, but he ignores them and opens Instagram instead.

 **yunho @ san is the fucking worst and we all hate him**  
san im seriously coming over to ur dorm room  
like right now  
unless u tell us wtf is going on  
stupd annoying dickhead

 **mingi**  
ditto on that  
san i’ll kick ur ass

 **yunho**  
i cant believe he’d leave us on read  
after everything we’ve done for him

 **mingi**  
yes like the time we got them to do a bodyshot

 **yunho**  
haha that was so funny

 **mingi**  
ikr  
we’re geniuses

San’s halfway down his Instagram feed, still resolutely ignoring the near constant stream of texts, but then he decides that maybe he feels a little bad for not at least giving some explanation after the amount of times his friends had needed to comfort him on what he’d thought were his one-sided feelings.

 **san**  
hi

 **yunho**  
fucking FINALLY  
i hate u so bad

 **hongjoong**  
omg hi san  
r u gonna explain what’s going on now

 **seonghwa**  
u better or else im joining mingi and yunho on their quest to go to ur dorm and kick ur ass

 **san**  
ok so  
o_O  
i kinda confessed haha :p  
and then  
we made out :3  
so turns out my feelings weren’t one-sided after all xD

 **mingi**  
ok those emojis are fuckin terrifying  
but i’ll ignore that in favour of saying  
OH MY GOD IM SO HAPPY RN ‼‼

 **yunho**  
EEEEEEEEEEEEE‼?!?!?!??!??$??%??%?£?@?  
xD <\- ME RN

 **mingi**  
SAME XD XD XD

 **seonghwa**  
FINALLYYYYYYYY  
WOW that took u guys AGES

 **hongjoong**  
IM SO HAPPY FOR U  
SO UR TOGETHER LIKE OFFICIALLY???

 **san**  
ya hes my bf now

 **mingi**  
WTFFFFK23KKLKL?????£??$??%?^??$?£??%??@?

 **hongjoong**  
THAT’S AMAZING SAN

 **seonghwa**  
WTF YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

 **yunho**  
THIS IS THEBEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE

**yunho changed the groupchat name to “4 bachelors and san”**

**san**  
love u guys or whatvr  
wait gtg he’s back

 **yunho**  
U BETTER MEET US FOR DRINKS TMR AND TELL US EVERYTHING

 **mingi**  
YES.  
OR ELSE THE PLAN WHER WE COME TO UR DORM  
AND BEAT U UP  
IS BACK ON

San doesn’t bother reading the rest of the messages, instead jumping up to open the door. The happy, floaty feeling in his stomach intensifies when he sees Wooyoung standing in the corridor.

“Finally, you’ve been gone for ages,” San says, stepping aside to let Wooyoung into the room. Wooyoung had walked to the nearby grocery store to pick up some ramen and snacks for them to eat; San watches him set the shopping bag down next to the door and kick off his Vans.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with Yeosang,” Wooyoung says. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow to tell him all the details in person about, um, us being officially together now, but I felt like I owed it to him to at least somewhat get him up to speed after the amount of pining he had to put up with from me.”

San exhales a laugh. “God, yeah, same with my friends. I’m already dreading seeing them.”

He kind of wants to tug Wooyoung into a hug, because every touch between them still feels so fresh and he doesn’t think he’ll ever take this for granted. Maybe that’s a by-product of finally getting together after pining so intensely for such a long time. San would ask someone, but he doesn’t think he knows anyone quite as stubbornly oblivious as him and Wooyoung that he could use as a point of reference.

Wooyoung is already reaching out towards him, wrapping his arms around San’s shoulders and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. It fills San with another rush of happiness, the _‘this is real, this is your life now’_ kind that makes it hard to stop smiling.

After a moment, Wooyoung draws away, turning to pull two plastic ramen packages out of the bag. “I’m gonna shower,” he says, handing the ramen to San. “Can you boil some water for these in the meantime?”

“Yeah, sure,” San replies, instinctively reaching to grab a towel from his closet and passing it to Wooyoung. “Let’s watch One Piece when you’re done.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung smiles, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

And, really, when San’s friends inevitably make fun of him tomorrow for being the most whipped fucker on the planet, he won’t even be able to defend himself because it’s true. But he’s also never been happier, so there’s that. And life is kinda fucking awesome right now.

* * *

By the time Wooyoung’s done showering and drying up, San has set up the laptop with one of their favourite One Piece episodes – Wooyoung’s seen it at least four times, but he’s not complaining – and finished preparing the ramen as well as some leftover broccoli he’d found in the fridge.

“Eating healthy is important,” San says pointedly when he catches sight of Wooyoung’s apprehensive gaze.

“Are you sure the broccoli isn’t out of date?” Wooyoung asks, just to tease him.

San makes an indignant sound. “How dare you. Of course I’m sure.”

The broccoli tastes surprisingly good, or maybe Wooyoung’s just super hungry. They sit on the bed to eat, which is probably gross, but San had warned Wooyoung that he’d kick him out if he spilled anything.

Wooyoung’s eyes are on the One Piece episode playing on the laptop, but really he’s not paying much attention, too distracted by the way the light off the screen illuminates San’s face. When they’re done eating and the food is no longer in their way, San wraps an arm around him and draws him against his side, the space between them quickly disappearing.

There’s a certain tension in the air, and Wooyoung can tell San’s equally aware of it by the way his touch lingers along the bare skin of Wooyoung’s arm, the unfocused look in his eyes that indicates he’s paying as little attention to the episode as Wooyoung. He smells good, like coffee and shampoo and something that Wooyoung doesn’t know how to describe but is as familiar to him as everything else about San.

As much as Wooyoung loves One Punch and cuddling and the peaceful atmosphere in the room, he’s not been able to stop thinking about how good San’s hands had felt on his body, when he’d been touching him, _properly_. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been anticipating that things would go in a similar direction tonight.

But – even though it’s obvious that San’s clearly not paying attention to One Piece – he doesn’t seem inclined to initiating anything right now, his arm resting almost casually around Wooyoung’s shoulder.

It had been bad enough to keep waiting and never being allowed to touch the way he wanted to when he’d thought his feelings were unrequited, the last thing Wooyoung’s gonna do is continue holding himself back now that he knows they’re on the same page. Especially when the only thing he can focus on is San’s body next to his; the points of contact where he can feel him against his own body.

And he’s still sort of inexperienced, but he’s also impatient, which is what prompts him to put his hand on the inside of San’s thigh, keeping his eyes fixed on the laptop like he isn’t aware of what he’s doing.

It’s almost funny how fast San’s mask of indifference disappears as soon as Wooyoung touches him, his head whipping around to face Wooyoung and his eyes widening. Wooyoung keeps looking at the screen, his hand drifting a little higher to San’s mid-thigh.

He can see San swallow in his peripheral vision, feel the way San’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his shoulder. The sound of the laptop still playing the episode has faded to white noise, and Wooyoung’s veins are thrumming with anticipation, the impatience he’d felt all day intensifying.

“What about One Piece?” San asks suddenly; a clear question of _‘are you sure you want this right now?’._

“Fuck One Piece,” Wooyoung says, and, in a move he’d never have thought himself bold enough for, moves his hand right over San’s dick, already a little hard in his jeans.

“ _Shit_ ,” San exhales. They stare at each other for a second, then San is reaching out to slam the laptop shut, setting it down on the floor before pulling Wooyoung against him into a messy kiss.

And, yeah, this was definitely where they both knew the night was going anyway.

Almost immediately, San has his mouth fitted over Wooyoung’s, open and lush. Now that San is kissing him, _properly_ , all hot and wet and filled with intent, Wooyoung’s whole body feels alight. And he clearly wasn’t the only one feeling impatient, both of them getting worked up too fast, tugging at each other like they can’t get close enough.

San gets him in his lap, like in the morning, but this time his touch is more insistent, his hands slipping under Wooyoung’s sweater and pulling him down harder against his body. Wooyoung feels dizzy with how fast his blood is rushing south, making him want to rut against San’s groin, the ache of arousal quickly becoming unbearable.

“Fuck, San. I wanna- I want-” he can’t get the words out, embarrassed.

San mouths along his neck, breath hot on his skin. “Tell me,” he mumbles. “We can do whatever you want, baby.”

Wooyoung’s head drops against San’s shoulder as he groans, hips jolting forward unintentionally. “I like when you call me that,”

He can heart the amusement in San’s voice. “I’ve noticed.”

San’s hands come to rest on Wooyoung’s waist, guiding his hips forward as he grinds his hardening cock against Wooyoung’s. The pressure shoots a jolt of heat through him, and Wooyoung pants against San’s shoulder as San’s hands move to grip his ass instead, their bodies grinding together more urgently.

The hickey is still visible on San’s neck, and Wooyoung licks along the skin, feeling San’s hands tighten on his body in response. All the primal urges he’d felt the last time are returning in full force; the way he wants San to kiss him until his lips hurt, touch him hard enough to leave a bruise, throw him against a fucking _wall_. He scrapes his teeth along the mark, and San gives a stuttered groan in response, hips kicking up against Wooyoung.

Everything is so overwhelming, feels so good, and Wooyoung forgets subtlety and his earlier reservations as he blurts, “I wanna have sex. With you. I want us to have sex.”

San freezes for a second, motions stilling, before he leans back to stare at Wooyoung. “What?”

Wooyoung can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, but he keeps his eyes locked with San’s as he repeats, “I want us to have sex. If you want to.”

“If I want to?” San exhales disbelievingly. “I’ve been dreaming about that for fucking _years_. But-” he pauses, eyes searching Wooyoung’s face. “But I need to know that you’re totally sure. The last thing I’d want is to risk screwing up anything between us.”

“I’m sure,” Wooyoung says immediately. “I trust you more than anyone, and I-” he ducks his head, shy, “I just really want you.”

San’s hands rub along Wooyoung’s back, pulling him more firmly against his chest. “Fuck. Yeah, okay, if you’re sure.”

Wooyoung’s heart feels like it’s expanding in his chest, warm affection filling him. “I am,” he whispers.

San kisses him again, and Wooyoung melts against him, opening his mouth and leaning into the kiss as it deepens from almost aggressively lustful to something that feels more meaningful, hot with the passion of two people who have wanted each other for so long. Wooyoung’s hands slide up under San’s shirt, palming at the hot skin and ridges of his spine.

San breaks away for a second to tug his shirt off, and Wooyoung follows suit, letting it drop to the floor beside them as San pulls him against his body with more urgency. The kiss grows even deeper, messier, with San pushing his tongue against Wooyoung’s and groaning against his lips when Wooyoung grinds down against him again.

Wooyoung can’t help his own little noises that slip out, the pressure delicious against his hard cock but still not _enough_. He can’t get enough of the feeling of San’s hands on him, has some fucked up need for San to grip him so tight it hurts, the years of sexual frustration building up into this messy, erratic, sloppy kiss as they rut against each other like horny teenagers.

And really, Wooyoung just needs San’s dick inside him, like, right now.

“How do you wanna do it?” Wooyoung asks, pulling back to get the words out between his heavy breaths.

San blinks at him, eyes unfocused and dazed. “What do you mean?”

It’s only because he’s with San that Wooyoung is able to force the words out, cheeks heating up. “Sex. Um. Who’s going to- uh, you know.”

“You mean who’s going to bottom?” San asks, and Wooyoung nods, covering his face with his hands in mortification. San gently pulls them away, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks with his own hands and stroking along the burning skin. “Don’t be embarrassed. I can, if that’s what you want.”

Wooyoung looks at him in surprise. He’s imagined it both ways, naturally, and hadn’t wanted to assume, but he’d kind of thought that… Well.

“I thought you’d want to fuck me,” he blurts out.

San makes a choked sound. “How the _fuck_ do you go from being too embarrassed talk about sex to saying shit like that?”

Wooyoung feels like his face is radiating heat like a frying pan. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Of course I wanna fuck you,” San says like it should be obvious, and the words send a tingle down Wooyoung’s spine. “but I want you to be comfortable. I don’t care how we do it as long as you’re happy. I want your first time to be something good and memorable.”

“It’s going to be good and memorable regardless, because I’m with you.”

San’s eyes are fond as he runs a finger along the hot skin of Wooyoung’s cheeks. “Seriously, just tell me what you want, and we can do that.”

Wooyoung’s entire body feels like he’s burning from the inside, part mortification, part desire and affection. The emotions churn in his stomach, but he manages to force words out, “I kinda want- I’d like to try- can you top?”

San’s hand stills. “That’s what you’d like?”

It’s what Wooyoung had spent many nights thinking about, alone in his room. Even before the first time they’d kissed, back when he’d had no idea how good San could make him feel, how he’d know exactly how to play Wooyoung’s body like an instrument. And it’s what his body is craving right now; to feel San inside him and be as close as physically possible.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” San says, a half-groan. “Okay, fuck, let’s do that.”

Wooyoung leans down to connect their lips again, excitement and anticipation mixing with the nervousness in his stomach. He can feel San’s heart pounding against his bare chest, knows his own pulse is equally fast.

“Are you really sure about this?” San asks breathlessly, breaking the kiss and leaning back a little. “It’s not too soon?”

“How could it be too soon when we’ve been in love with each other for god knows how long? And yes, I’m sure,” Wooyoung’s skin is hot with embarrassment, but San’s gentle hands stroking along his back make it easier to get the words out. “I bought lube and condoms, earlier, when I went to pick up the ramen.”

“You- what?”

Wooyoung doesn’t bother repeating his sentence, too preoccupied with the feeling of San’s body against his. He needs San to know that he _wants_ this, badly; that he’s been waiting for this moment for far longer than San probably realises. Instead of replying, he tugs San’s head upwards, kissing him deeply and letting out a soft, pleased sound when San’s hands move to rest on his waist again.

He’s quickly distracted by the vague shape of San’s cock through his jeans, grinds down against it again. San gives a gritted moan, head falling against Wooyoung’s shoulder as he pulls Wooyoung harder against his lap.

“W-where did you put the lube and condoms?” San asks, voice rough.

“Grocery bag.”

Neither of them move to get them, reluctant to stop the little jolts of pleasure every time Wooyoung rolls his hips down. It’s only the prospect of having sex with San that allows Wooyoung to eventually pull himself away, quickly becoming aware of how embarrassingly hard he is already by the way his dick strains against his jeans as he grabs the two boxes in question from the bag beside the bed and chucks them onto the mattress.

“Have you ever, um, tried it before?” San asks, picking up the lube. “Like, fingering yourself?”

“No.” Wooyoung knows he’s blushing.

San glances at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Have you?”

“Well, yeah,” San says, far more nonchalant confessing that than Wooyoung would be in his place. “Once or twice.”

Wooyoung blinks at him, a jolt of heat shooting through his stomach at the thought as he resolves to pursue that avenue further in the future. But then San is leaning towards him, reaching out a hand to brush along his cheek and pulling him into another kiss.

Wooyoung’s blood feels hot with need as San gets increasingly absorbed in the kiss, dizzy with the way he grips Wooyoung’s body more tightly and pants harder against his lips, both of them tugging at each other to get as close as possible. And he’s so hard it’s getting unbearable, his cock straining against his jeans in a way that almost hurts.

“Take your pants off,” San says, breathing heavily.

“You take my pants off for me,” Wooyoung replies, half to tease San and half because he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous.

San rolls his eyes and Wooyoung laughs a little, more at ease with the reminder that this is _San_ , that there’s nothing he needs to worry about. He tries his best not to shy away as he lifts his hips to help San pull down his jeans and underwear. San had seen him naked yesterday, but it still feels embarrassing, although it’s hard to think about that too much when San is watching him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“Is this okay?” San asks, leaning back to pick up the bottle of lube.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, letting San gently press his legs apart, mortification mixing with arousal in his stomach.

San snaps open the bottle of lube, eyes locked with Wooyoung’s as he coats his index finger with the clear liquid. The contrast of the familiarity and unfamiliarity is making Wooyoung’s head spin; San’s face is reassuring and familiar, but the feeling of his finger as he presses up against Wooyoung is anything but.

“I’m not really sure how to do this,” San says quietly, voice shaky.

Somehow, seeing San’s nervousness shine through is calming, and Wooyoung feels more relaxed as he murmurs, “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.”

It feels weird, being touched so intimately, even though San makes no effort to push in, instead gently teasing his finger along Wooyoung’s rim. “Fuck, you look so good like this,” San whispers, breath hot against Wooyoung’s neck.

The words shoot a jolt of arousal through Wooyoung, a tiny, embarrassing whine slipping out of his throat. The gentle movement of San’s finger is setting his nerves alight and he’s starting to enjoy the pressure, starting to crave _more_.

San seems to know exactly what he needs. “Can I?”

Wooyoung nods, and then inhales sharply when he feels San’s finger slide in slowly, slipping past his rim with relatively little resistance thanks to the lube.

“Jesus, _fuck_ , you’re so tight,” San mumbles, and the tone of his voice makes Wooyoung shudder. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung manages to say, overwhelmed. There’s a slight pinch with the unfamiliarity of San’s finger inside him, but it’s not as bad as he was expecting.

“Relax,” San murmurs, kissing along his jaw. “Can you do that for me?” 

Wooyoung hums, although it comes out more as a breathy moan. It feels strange, not entirely unpleasant but also not good, but the way San’s looking at him is making his mind hazy as he allows his body to relax against the sheets.

San starts moving his finger in and out at an almost excruciatingly slow pace, the pad of it dragging along his walls. Despite what he’d said about not knowing what he’s doing, he’s proving to be very good at this, the pressure turning into something _better_ as he slowly works Wooyoung’s body open.

“Tell me how you feel,” San murmurs, as though the little whimpers that Wooyoung can’t hold back aren’t indicator enough.

“F-feels good,” Wooyoung says, voice breathy. “You can add another.”

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung nods, reminding himself to breathe as San grabs the lube bottle again, squeezing out more of the liquid. This time, the pain is more obvious as San slides his fingers in, even though his movements are slow and careful. But then San’s kissing along his jaw, his other hand gripping Wooyoung’s cock, wet with lube, and Wooyoung lets out a low groan as his hands flex against the sheets.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined this,” San says against his neck, his hot breath making goosebumps rise along Wooyoung’s skin.

Wooyoung had imagined it too, even dreamed about it on more than a few occasions, but before he can say that, San crooks his fingers _just right_ inside him and the words come out a garbled moan.

“There?” San asks, repeating the motion.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wooyoung groans by way of response, torn between fucking down against San’s fingers or up into his fist.

The pain is easy to ignore now, everything just feels so overwhelmingly good, San’s fingers opening him up so _nicely_ , brushing against Wooyoung’s prostate with just the right amount of pressure.

Wooyoung lets out a pathetic little _mmh_ , and he’s fighting a losing battle to hold in the increasingly loud, needy sounds threatening to escape from his throat. Then San’s hips jerk forward, his hard cock rubbing along Wooyoung’s thigh like he can’t hold himself still, and Wooyoung doesn’t bother holding back his whimper.

“ _Hngh_ \- so good, San, that’s so good, holy shit,” his hands clench against the sheets, head digging into the pillow.

“God, fuck, you’re so hot.”

“You’re- _ah_ , that’s really- _fuck_ -” Wooyoung doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, increasingly falling apart under San’s hands. It’s not just the overwhelming physical sensations, but also the look on San’s face as he works his fingers in and out of Wooyoung’s body at a steady pace. “Give me three,” he pants, not caring if he’s being too demanding.

“Shit, Wooyoung,” San says, voice thick, quick to accommodate his request as he grabs the lube bottle again before gently easing three fingers into his body. “You’re driving me insane. I’m- _shit_. I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

Wooyoung groans, arching off the bed and grabbing onto San’s shoulders, fingers digging into the skin as he tries to ground himself. The burning stretch is easy to ignore in favour of the warm, numbing shocks of pleasure enveloping his entire body. In some sick way, the pain makes it better, everything completely overwhelming and incomparable to anything he’s ever experienced.

And then San leans down and licks at Wooyoung’s nipple, the feeling sending a jolt of heat through his body that makes Wooyoung arch up against San, which slightly repositions the way San’s fingers are angled inside him. The noise Wooyoung lets out is embarrassingly wrecked, but San just takes it as encouragement to trace the other nipple with his mouth, every brush of his tongue sending Wooyoung closer to the edge.

When he feels like he can’t wait any longer, cock heavy and body trembling with the effort of holding himself back from coming, he stutters out, “F-fuck. Fuck me, please, I want it now, please, fuck-”

“Okay, I got you, I-” San cuts off with an almost pained groan as Wooyoung reaches down clumsily to rub his cock from above his jeans.

Wooyoung momentarily feels bad for him because there’s no way that wasn’t uncomfortable, San’s cock straining against the material, but it’s hard to think too much about that when San’s unzipping his jeans and kicking them off, grabbing the box of condoms and tearing the box open. He can’t stop himself from staring, at San’s well-defined torso flushed in the dim lighting of the room, the damp spot on his boxers from where he’d been leaking precome. And then San’s pushing his underwear down and letting it drop to the floor, and Wooyoung is dizzy with arousal, needs San’s cock inside him _now_.

San leans over him, sliding a condom on with ease as Wooyoung wraps his arms around San’s shoulders, and everything about this moment is better than Wooyoung had been able to imagine. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, so much,” San catches his lips in another kiss. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, feeling another jolt of nervousness shoot through him despite how much he knows he wants this.

San starts pushing in slowly, breath hot against Wooyoung’s skin and everything is overwhelming except now it’s not in a good way, all the mild pain from before intensifying tenfold and Wooyoung can’t help his small pained gasp because _holy fucking shit that really hurts_.

San immediately stops moving. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice unsteady and Wooyoung can feel that his arms are shaking with the effort of holding himself still.

“Hurts,” Wooyoung whispers, words forced out over the searing pain in his ass. “Just a little.” Not just a little. “Keep going, maybe it’ll go away in a second.”

San shakes his head, hair brushing against Wooyoung’s cheek. “Try to relax as much as you can, I’m gonna pull out.”

Wooyoung half wants to protest because it would be horrifically anticlimactic if they don’t have sex after everything, but this also really fucking _hurts_ and it would be a lie to say he isn’t relieved at the prospect of the pain stopping.

“Okay,” he says, trying unsuccessfully to get his body to unclench.

“Relax,” San says again, the words murmured against Wooyoung’s neck. He sucks a mark into the skin, Wooyoung whimpering as San licks along the bruise. And then San pulls out entirely, and Wooyoung gives a pained groan at the burning pain as well as the horrible emptiness that follows.

“Well, this sucks,” he mumbles, mind finally able to catch up with the situation now that he’s not in overwhelming pleasure or pain.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” San says with a small laugh. “You know it’s fine if we don’t have sex today, right? We can always try again a different time.”

“But I want to have sex today,” Wooyoung says, pouting slightly as he pushes himself up on his elbows to look San in the eye.

San pauses for a moment. “I mean, we can try it differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“It might be a little easier for you if, um,” San’s cheeks are adorably flushed, and it fills Wooyoung with a rush of affection. “If you get on your knees.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s something stupidly sexy about the idea of offering himself up to San like that, making the arousal that had diminished a little return in full force. “Yeah, let’s try that,” he says, voice embarrassingly breathy.

Maybe Wooyoung is more of a masochist than he’d ever realised, because there’s something about the mortification of getting on all fours that makes it even hotter, blood rushing through his body as he hears San mumble a soft “ _fuck_.”

There’s the sound of the lube bottle opening and closing, and Wooyoung shudders as San’s fingers slip inside him again, without pain this time. His hands fist into the sheets as San starts steadily moving his fingers, starting with two and quickly adding a third when Wooyoung whines at him to go faster.

“Gotta be patient,” San says, the roughness of his voice sending shivers down Wooyoung’s spine. “I don’t want to hurt you again, baby.”

Wooyoung makes a needy sound as San brushes against his prostate, crooking his fingers perfectly to send a numbing wave of pleasure through his entire body. “San,” he moans helplessly, trying to stop himself from pushing back against San’s fingers.

He has no idea how San has the patience to continue stretching him out for what feels like hours, his ability to process time quickly deteriorating as his mind becomes unable to register anything except how fucking deep San’s fingers get, how good it feels, even though it’s still not enough. He wants _more_. His knees have slid farther apart on the bed, spreading himself for San to open him up easier.

“Please,” he mumbles, tempted to beg San to fuck him before he _dies_ from being teased to the edge too many times, only to be brought right back down. San seems to be able to read every reaction he gives, every whimper, always knowing when to move faster and when to slow down to stop him from getting too close.

“Do you feel ready?” San asks, and Wooyoung makes a breathless noise of affirmation, too dazed to form a coherent sentence.

Wooyoung feels San pull his fingers out, half able to register the crinkling of a new condom wrapper and the sound of the lube bottle being snapped open. And then San’s got his hands around his hips and he lets out a soft, pleased moan as San jostles him into position, gentle but with enough force to show how riled up he is.

“Go, now, _please_ ,” Wooyoung manages to say, dropping his forehead to rest against the pillow.

“Fuck, okay,” San says, breathing heavily as he tightens his grip around Wooyoung and pushes in. Wooyoung grips the sheets, clenching and relaxing around San’s cock as San notches his hips forward slowly.

San leans down, chest against Wooyoung’s sweaty back, kissing his shoulder. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs into Wooyoung’s ear, breath hot, making him shiver and melt further into the bed. “So good for me.”

Wooyoung groans, lightheaded and borderline delirious, body becoming more relaxed and pliant and allowing San to slide in deeper. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, to lift his heavy head from the pillow and breathe properly, loud whimpers slipping out of his mouth because he can’t get himself to shut the hell up.

The stretch still hurts, but he’s so distracted by the overwhelming feeling of fullness, by the way San’s chest burns against his back, that he can’t do anything except moan helplessly into the pillow, biting down to stop any more embarrassing noises from escaping.

San’s panting hard, hips stuttering as he shifts forwards slowly. He runs his tongue along Wooyoung’s earlobe, making Wooyoung’s cock twitch as he tugs the flesh between his teeth. “How do you feel?”

“F-fuck, keep going, feels- _nngh_ , feels good,” Wooyoung chokes out, words half muffled.

San threads his hand in Wooyoung’s hair, gently tugging his head up off the pillow and making his back arch. His cock shifts inside Wooyoung with the new angle, and Wooyoung almost sobs with how fucking _full_ he feels.

“Wanna hear you,” San murmurs, and Wooyoung can’t help his loud moan as San eases in the last bit, hips flush against Wooyoung’s. “That’s right, just like that. Fuck, you’re really tight. _Fuck_.”

“Oh god, San, please-” Wooyoung doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, tightening his fists in the pillow as his back arches more, instinctively trying to get San’s cock against the spot he knows will make him see stars.

“Shit,” San’s voice is strained, hand tightening in Wooyoung’s hair. “ _Fucking hell_ , you’re so hot.”

Wooyoung whimpers helplessly, eyes fluttering shut as he adjusts to the feeling of San inside him. Everything is hot and sweaty even as San stays still, whispering words of encouragement in his ear.

“That’s right,” San murmurs. “Just breathe and relax, yeah? You’re doing so well, you feel amazing. So fucking good for me.”

Wooyoung turns his head to look at San, even though he knows he probably looks like a mess. He feels weirdly emotional, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and _god_ that is so embarrassing because he’d never thought he’d be the type to cry as soon as he’s got a dick up his ass.

“Are you okay?” San asks immediately, and his face is close enough that Wooyoung can see beads of sweat along his forehead. 

Wooyoung nods, trying to talk through the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah. I just need a second. How do you feel?”

San exhales a laugh, his breath hot against Wooyoung’s neck. “Honestly, I’m just trying really hard not to come already.”

Wooyoung wants to tease him but he’s too overwhelmed by how good San looks like this, sweaty hair hanging in his dark eyes and cheeks flushed with exertion. “Kiss me,” he says instead, voice cracking a little.

San groans, hand tugging Wooyoung’s hair as he pulls him into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. The angle isn’t the best and Wooyoung’s neck hurts as he turns his head further back to deepen the kiss, but he’ll really need to self-reflect on his potential masochistic tendencies, because there’s something about the mix of pleasure and pain that’s so hot it makes the blood rush in his ears; something about the vulnerability of being completely intertwined with San in the most intimate way possible that makes his head spin.

“San, move, I’m ready, please-” Wooyoung gasps against San’s lips, words cut off by a moan as San grinds his hips forward slowly, letting go of Wooyoung’s hair to grip his waist. “Y-yeah, keep going, do that again,”

“Shit, Wooyoung,” San’s hands tighten, fingers digging into Wooyoung’s skin. “You’re so- _fuck_.”

Wooyoung whimpers as San starts moving properly, giving him careful, shallow thrusts. His hands grip the pillow, putting a strain on his arms as he struggles to support his upper body, breath coming out in sharp pants.

“Go harder- fuck. Please, want more,” Wooyoung manages to say when the shallow thrusting borders on unbearable, feeling shaky and needy and wanting San to just fucking _ruin_ him.

San groans, snapping his hips into Wooyoung with more intent, erratic and sexy and deep. The room is swelteringly hot, sweat dripping down Wooyoung’s neck as he struggles to hold himself up and not collapse onto the bed. His fingernails dig into his palms, arms tense and shaking as he struggles to support his weight.

“San, _hngh_ \- shit,” Wooyoung knows he must sound destroyed, moans slipping out between words as San continues fucking him open, finding a solid rhythm. “That’s, _ah_ , good- feels so- _fuck_.”

“Yeah?” San asks, wrecked. “I’m making you feel good?”

“So good, feels amazing,” Wooyoung’s voice cracks again, his throat dry.

He drops his face against the pillow, then San presses his back down so that his chest is against the sheets. Wooyoung nearly sobs when he feels San’s cock drive directly against his prostate, moaning into the pillow. It’s impossible to think, with San fucking him so _well_ , whispering praises into his ear and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck.

“You’re shaking,” San mumbles, the words barely registering in Wooyoung’s hazy mind.

He realises that his arms are trembling, shaking with the effort of holding himself still and not collapsing further against the sheets. “It’s good,” he says, tongue heavy, the words slurred against the pillow.

And it is, with San fucking him so deep, the all-consuming pleasure and the sounds of San’s soft groans. Wooyoung vaguely registers that his whimpers from earlier have developed into long, drawn-out moans every time San thrusts into him, too overwhelmed to focus on keeping himself quiet. The sounds seem to be unravelling San too, making him thrust deeper and more unevenly, hands digging into Wooyoung’s hips so hard that it might leave a mark.

It’s probably more for Wooyoung’s benefit when San says, “Shh, baby, you have to keep it down a little or everyone in the corridor is gonna hear us,” because Wooyoung knows San couldn’t care less about that kind of thing

But Wooyoung doesn’t care either. In fact, there’s something so _dirty_ about that, about the idea of people walking past his room and being able to guess what’s going on inside, a thrilled shudder running down Wooyoung’s spine at the prospect. His hands tighten in the sheets, groaning when San adjusts the angle slightly as he leans forward, chest against Wooyoung’s back, sweaty and hot. “Not my problem,” he grits between clenched teeth.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” San snarls against his ear. “You like that, yeah? Want everyone to know how good I’m fucking you?”

Wooyoung sobs, arms flexing as San fucks into him even harder, seeming to lose the final grasps of his self-control that had allowed him to keep an even, steady pace. He almost relishes in the fact that he can drive San to this, make him sound so beautifully wrecked and take him apart with nothing but his body, after all the time he’d spent thinking his feelings would be unrequited.

There’s a certain heat pooling in his abdomen, more intense than any wave of pleasure he’s ever experienced. Wooyoung’s breath comes out in short pants between his moans as his hands clench into the sheets, the pleasure completely overwhelming. “Fuck, _oh_ \- I think, _hngh_ , I think I’m c-close,” he chokes out, nearly incoherent.

San reaches to wrap a hand around Wooyoung’s cock, jerking him off with messy strokes, his hips stuttering. “I love you,” he mumbles against Wooyoung’s neck.

“ _Fuck_. I love you. I love you,” Wooyoung can’t stop repeating the words as he feels his body approach the edge, blood rushing in his ears and thighs shaking.

“Shit, baby. That’s right, come for me,” San grits, and Wooyoung does: every single muscle in his body locks up and, gasping for air, he comes so _fucking hard_ that he almost blacks out.

He shudders as he feels San bury his face against the back of his neck, hair brushing the sweaty skin, his hands grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips and pulling him against the curve of his body as he gives a last few broken thrusts.

“Come inside me,” Wooyoung pants against the pillow, and San makes a sound like he’s dying.

“F-fuck, I’m coming,” San groans, then goes still, groaning with his cock still inside Wooyoung, panting as his own orgasm washes through him, leaving both of them shaking.

“Wow,” Wooyoung whispers, exhausted but satiated. His brain feels sluggish, muscles sore, but he’s so happy he could cry.

San hums in agreement, gently pulling out as Wooyoung collapses against the bed, too spent to be bothered with the gross stickiness. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop trembling after that, body still shuddering with aftershocks of his orgasm.

“We did the coming-in-sync thing again,” Wooyoung mumbles.

San makes an amused sound as he drops the used condom into the trash, then curls up next to Wooyoung, clingy as ever, pressing kisses along his shoulder. “That’s mostly because I wouldn’t have lasted another second.”

“Next time you should come inside me without a condom,” Wooyoung says, tongue loose and eyes slipping shut.

“Jesus Christ,” San replies, incredulous, as he wraps his arms around Wooyoung’s body and snuggles up against his side. “Okay, sure, I’d be honoured.”

Wooyoung feels ready to drift off to sleep, but after a few blissfully happy minutes of cuddling, San manages to convince him to take a quick shower together. Then, because they’re lazy and gross and tired, they decide to just crash in Wooyoung’s bed instead of bothering to change San’s sheets.

“We can just change them tomorrow,” Wooyoung points out. “I mean, what’s the point in having two rooms in the same corridor if we don’t take advantage of that during times like this?”

“It’s the logical course of action,” San says in agreement, quickly collecting their phones and keys to bring with them.

Wooyoung, embarrassingly, has to pretend he isn’t limping slightly as they make the short walk to his room, but San – obviously – picks up on it immediately, his expression a combination of smug and concerned.

“You feel okay, right? No regrets about anything?”

“I feel fine. Fantastic, actually. And I will punch you in the face if you ask me whether I regret anything between us again,” Wooyoung tells him, unlocking the door to his room and stepping inside.

“Just making sure,” San says, following him inside and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Now that the initial exhaustion has somewhat worn off, there’s just a deep feeling of contentment that makes Wooyoung sink into the sheets and pull San down against him, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his face into his neck.

“I won’t be able to make fun of you for being the clingy one at this rate,” he mumbles.

San laughs, tucking the blanket over them and pressing a few soft kisses along Wooyoung’s shoulder. “You can say whatever you want as long as I get to keep cuddling you,” he says.

“I guess that could be arranged.” Wooyoung’s eyes are drifting shut, and all he can think is how great his life is now that he can fall asleep in San’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE FOR 17/01/21 ok so. technically there is one more chapter left (epilogue) but for now i'm just leaving it like this/marking as complete because ive been having major writers block and don't think i'll be able to write anything for this anytime soon LMAO RIP plus theres no cliffhanger so pls dont hate me!!1!@ i def wanna write an epilogue-esque ending in the future so keep an eye out for that (eventually...) but yeah if this ending seems abrupt then that's why :p
> 
> ORIGINAL NOTE:
> 
> PHEW... wow this chapter took me so long to write im kinda relieved that i can finally publish it :D plz plz let me know what you thought in the comments, i'd love to hear ur thoughts!!
> 
> so there's one last chapter left that'll tie any remaining loose ends hopefully, but please let me know if there's anything else you'd like to read in this story because right now i'm not sure what should happen in the final chapter lmao.. also im working on an ABO woosan fic and hopefully i'll publish the 1st chapter before the last chapter of get loud (maybe within the next week or so if things go according to plan), so stay tuned xoxo


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